Renegade

Chapter 11

     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.