Frederick Dodgers answered a light knock at his front door, not expecting one so late at night. When he opened the door, Frederick immediately tried to slam it.

     "Wait!" Ben screamed, sticking his shoe in the way of the door. "We need to talk."

     "Get away from me!" Frederick yelled back in response, shoving his entire body weight onto the door to keep it closed.

     "Let me in!" Ben snapped, cracking the door open and stumbling into the apartment.

     "Argh!" Frederick grunted, throwing himself on top of Ben.

     Ben easily tossed the man off and onto the ground. All Frederick could do was lie and breathe heavily. His face was contorted and bruised, with one eye almost completely swollen shut from their previous conflict.

     "You've come here to end it?" Frederick spat. "I will kill you before you even get the chance!"

     Ben held up both his hands, "Look, I'm sorry about what happened before--"

     "What happened before?!" Frederick recoiled.

     He shot up and grabbed Ben's arm, painfully twisting it behind his back.

     "You beat me up in front of my own goddamn daughter!" Frederick whispered, with hot breath, into Ben's ear as he was shoved up against the wall. "You're going to have to do a lot more than apologize!"

     Ben unhinged his arm and spun around so he was facing Frederick.

     "Hold up--" he started.

     "No!" Frederick interrupted.

     "Listen, damn it!" Ben hissed, shoving Frederick up against the wall. "I found out that my entire family was dead! My wife, my daughter--imagine if your daughter was dead. Imagine the pain that you would feel!"

     Frederick stared into Ben's eyes.

     "I have no hope, and nothing to live for," Ben continued, hissing like a snake through gritted teeth with his own face inches away from Frederick's. "The only thing that's keeping me going is the fact that an idiot, in a goddamn mask, is running around with the one thing the Black Dragon needs. I want to make them bleed for what they did to my family...I want to slaughter them..."

     Frederick tried to shift, but he was pinned to the wall.

     "Mr. Dodgers," Ben concluded, "you are going to tell me every detail about Project Bellator. Do you understand me? I...want it..."

     "That's...suicide," Frederick grunted, under his breath. "The serum only works with those strong enough to withstand the genetic rewrite...you would..."

     "Die?" Ben asked. "Death is the least of my concerns right now Dodgers. I need something far more dangerous...something more than human."

     Frederick's eyes filled with fear.

     "If you don't help me," Ben whispered, with a look of death in his eyes, "I will kill you and your daughter before the night is done. Do you understand me?"

     Frederick didn't respond.

     "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME??!!" Ben screamed, feeling desperate.

     Frederick looked away, "Fine...but on one condition."

     Ben blinked.

     "That you never come near me nor my daughter ever again," Frederick continued, trembling. "You will fade away...you will disappear forever."

     Ben released Frederick from his grip, "Alright. Now, tell me everything about Bellator."

**

     "I don't know much about Bellator," Frederick explained, "but there is someone who does."

     They drove through San Diego in the dead of night, not wanting to attract attention to their scheme. Ben sat in the back while Frederick drove up front.

     "He is the one who supplies me with some of the boxes," Frederick continued. "The boxes are information, passed on to others."

     "How do they trust you?" Ben asked, from the back.

     "They have...my compliance," Frederick mumbled. 

     They drove all the way out of town, towards a very secluded region. Through the darkness, Ben could make out less and less buildings as they furthered their distance from the big city.

     "Who is this person?" Ben asked. "Who are you taking me to see?"

     They drove in silence for several more minutes before Frederick pulled off of the road and stopped. They were in a thickly-wooded area, and there were no lights to be seen for miles.

     "Get out," Frederick spat.

     "What?" Ben asked.

     "The man who you want to see is about a mile further up the road," Frederick growled. "You make the journey there on your own."

     "But how am I supposed to see?" Ben asked.

     "Find your way," Frederick grumbled. "Now, get out of my damn car!"

     "Frederick..." Ben answered. 

     "GET OUT OF THE CAR!" Frederick screamed. "GET AWAY FROM ME AND MY DAUGHTER!!!!"

     Ben opened up the door and got out, his feet sloshing in the wet mud. Seconds later, the car hummed and abruptly turned. It sped away into the night.

     Ben stared into the dark distance, not knowing what was going to happen next. He took one step forward, followed by another and another.

**

     He walked for about an hour, with the darkness pressing in like a thick blanket. There were no stars to guide him, and the road was narrow. Ben shivered from the cold, knowing that his rejection by Frederick was completely justified. The man was just afraid.

     Eventually, after his feet got soaked from walking through mud, an isolated structure began to come into view. It was an old house, with dirt-stains and black windows staring into the night. The lawn was overgrown, so overgrown that it was easily see-able even in the dim light. In fact, everything seemed as if it were overgrown due to years of neglect.

     He walked up the old steps, feeling a sense of unease as he did so. Ben knocked on the old, wooden door but there was no answer.

     "Hello?" Ben called, trying to look into the old windows. 

     There was some shuffling, and the door opened up ajar. An elderly man's eye could be seen through the slit, observing Ben.

     "Who are you?" the elderly man asked. 

     "I'm Benedict Cain," Ben replied, shifting uneasily on the doorstep. "I was sent here by--"

     But the door slammed before he could finish his sentence.

     "Hey!" Ben yelled, banging on the door. "I'm here to talk about Project Bellator!"

     The door abruptly opened and the old man stuck his head out. His faced was heavily creased with thick lines, his hair was a messy heap of white, and his eyes looked as if they were burdened with a thousand sins. The old man's face contorted with an expression of horror and surprise at the mention of Bellator's name.

     "How the hell do you know about that?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

     Ben blinked in surprise, "A-A file. I found a file..."

     The man pulled his head back in the door and shut it.

     "Hey!" Ben screamed again, hurriedly banging on the door again. "I need to know about it!"

     His frustration turned into anger, and he kicked the door with all his might. Then, he hurled his body at the wooden structure and the door burst inwards. He stumbled, but froze as he felt the cold barrel of a gun press up against the back of his head.

     "I don't know how you found me, but get out!" the old man demanded, cocking the gun and pressing it harder into Ben's flesh.

     "My family," Ben blurted out, as he frantically looked around, "was taken by the Black Dragon. I need power-- I need to avenge them..."

     The pressure of the gun slightly slackened.

     "The Black Dragon," the old man whispered, "is a name I thought I'd left behind."

     "They're evil, I know," Ben whispered. "They need to be brought to justice."

     "And Bellator can bring you that?" the old man asked, once again pressing the gun up against Ben's head. 

     "I'm too weak on my own," Ben explained, slowly standing up. "I need power so that I can match them. Do you know how much pain I feel for my family's loss?"

     The gun immediately slackened, and Ben turned around. He could see a silhouette of emotion behind the old man's sunken eyes. The man let the gun clatter to the floor, and he went into an adjacent room. 

     "Uh..." Ben started. "Are we all good?"

      He followed the man, extremely cautiously, into the room in which he had gone into. It was littered with boxes spilling out with papers all over the floor. In the corner was a tattered armchair in which the old man had sat down in. A look of stress and anxiety creased his brow.

     Ben stood in the doorway, "Do you know about the project? Am I even in the right place?" 

     The old man slowly nodded his head, "I've done so many terrible things. That project was the personification of evil. So many people, innocent people, died for that project..."  

     Ben looked at the ground littered with papers.

     "My family..." Ben started, but his voice cracked a little as a lump rose in his throat. "My family was used for that project's purpose. They're gone now..."

     "Everyone's gone," the old man whispered, rubbing his temple. "We weren't able to perfect the serum until...they all died for nothing..."

     Ben walked into the room, sensing that the hostilities had ceased, "That's why I'm here...what's your name?"

     "Oswald Jones," the old man whispered. "My name is Oswald Jones."

     There was a moment of silence.

     "Mr. Jones," Ben insisted, taking a step closer, "I'm begging for your assistance here."

     Oswald had a far-away look in his eyes, "I saw so many people die in pain...so many people..."

     Ben looked into Oswald's eyes, "I can make all those deaths worth something."

     Oswald looked at Ben.

     "But first," Ben continued, "I need some answers."

**

     "I worked for the Black Dragon a long, long time ago," Oswald reminisced. "For years I worked with other scientists trying to perfect a serum that could enhance a human into the ultimate soldier. Trial after trial, however, only ended in failure."

     Ben stared out at the boxes, "These boxes, are these what you give to Frederick Dodgers? Are you the supplier?"

     Oswald slowly nodded his head, "I sell information, and he helps transport them. There's all kinds of intel here...even information on the actions of the Black Dragon..."

     Ben looked around the room once more.

     "I got tired of the burden," Oswald continued. "I saw so...many...people die. It stained my soul black, and I tried to get out. But I was too late..."

     Ben turned his head, "Too late for what?"

     Oswald licked his lips with unease, "My research consumed me. I kept pushing farther, deeper, than even some of my most anxious fellow scientists. In retrospect, I can only think of it as an obsession." 

     "And?" asked Ben.

     Oswald shook his head, not looking Ben in the eyes, "I made a breakthrough. I was able to stabilize the process enough so the subject could endure the genetic rewrite...in theory. Before I left I made an attempt to destroy all of my research, but another man was able to put together the pieces."

     "Who was that man?" asked Ben.

     "Dr. Harrison," Oswald spat in disgust. "He used my research to perfect the serum. I was...too late."

     Ben thought for a moment.

     "But then that means, that you know how to do it," said Ben. "You could give me the serum."

     Oswald looked at Ben.

     Ben, seeing the doubt in Oswald's eyes, stated, "I can bring the Black Dragon to justice. All of those people who died could not have died in vain. You have to understand."

     Oswald looked away, "To right my wrongs, to wipe the slate clean, would be a blessing," he looked at Ben, something shifting in his weighted eyes. "You must use the project for the one thing I was never able to do: make good."

     Ben nodded his head, knowing that he was getting where he needed to go.

     Oswald sighed, "The master...the Shadow...my former leader...he must die before it is too late..."

     "So you'll do it?" asked Ben.

     Oswald nodded his head, "I need a few minutes to get the materials, but yes."

     Ben closed his eyes as he felt a wave of triumph. He was going to get it.

     He was going to beat the Silver Assassin.