The Old Man in the Fair.

For forty-five minutes I walked in silence, the only sound emanating from my footsteps. I had approached life. Finally. Light was a more frequent occurrence then before, and it effortlessly flooded the rain-drenched streets and the graffiti-stained walls. Vehicles and their respective operators were more willing to traverse this part of the neighbourhood then the one where the mysterious woman saved me.

I stopped traveling and leant on a slightly bent metallic light-post, its yellow glow drenching me in a sickeningly cheery colour. I tolerated it for the moment, even though I felt a strange sense of exposure.

I tilted my head upwards and noticed in the distance a gargantuan building shaped like a capitalized 'T' residing on a miniscule, circular island in the centre of the bay. I removed the address from the pocket and checked it once again. There was no mistake, no misinterpretation. I had to somehow get on that island. I sighed exasperatedly and pushed my shoulder off the post, propelling myself slightly forward as I continued my descent towards the bay.

Perhaps they have ferry services at this time of night…?

I stepped on the wooden pier and rested my palms on the splintered railing. I breathed in and out deeply, taking precautionary measures to not explode in anger at this point in time. I turned my head to the left and right of me, but there was not a soul in sight. My gaze soon rested upon the closed theme park, with its towering iron gates forbidding anyone to enter and even taller Ferris wheel that stood silent and foreboding, its once jovial atmosphere now wrenched away by the darkness and the need to rest, leaving only a circular mass of metal and bolts.

I checked to see if anyone else was present. Which was quite stupid, actually, as the rain had driven everyone off the streets and into their homes.

Although the rain had subsided a fair bit, and only a heavy mist remained.

I approached the rusted gates and clutched two bars with both my hands. I pulled them slightly; half hoping they would just pop off their hinges. I may have exceptional close-combat skills, but superman I aint, I reminded myself.

I looked up and gauged the height of the gate. I took a few steps back, letting go of the iron bars and decided that it was roughly thirteen feet tall. I retreated even more until my back bumped into a public restroom. Then I ran. I planted my feet firmly on the ground and ran, harder, faster, picking up speed until…

Now!

I propelled myself into the air, feeling the wind rush at my face as I cut through it like a knife. It was not enough. I fell onto the gate and held on tightly, slipping ever so slightly as the paint scraped off beneath my palms. I pulled myself effortlessly upwards, one arm after the other as if I had been doing this my whole life. Using the horizontal crossbars as ladder rungs I flipped myself over the tip of the gate and let myself fall to the ground.

Oh My God… Why the Hell did I just do this? I'm going to die for sure…

WHACK. I landed perfectly on both my legs like a professional acrobat completing his signature move. The landing was immaculate. I straightened up and brushed myself off nonchalantly.

I can get used to this…

As soon as I had recovered from my superhuman jump, however, I was forced to quickly duck behind a fairy-floss vendor, as three police cruisers sped down the darkened street, their lights flashing brightly and their tires splashing a mist of water from the asphalt to the pavement.

They're still after me…

Once I was absolutely positive the police had left the area, I slowly rose from my hiding place and began to walk past rows of haunting dark Fair games. I approached one game where the objective was to topple a pyramid of heavy tin cans with an equally as heavy rubber ball. I removed a dull red ball from the wooden basin in front of me and gazed at the cans. I juggled the ball with my hands, before winding up and releasing it with an awesome force. It rocketed towards the cans and knocked every single one off the pedestal.

I left that particular game and approached another. The aim of this one was to hit the bulls-eye on various diminutive targets with a rigged air-rifle. I grasped one of the rifles and brought the aiming reticule up to my eyes. I gazed upon the playing area and fired one shot.

I missed by four centimeters. I cursed silently and made to leave, before a sudden realization dawned upon me. I picked up the rifle again and aimed through the reticule once more, except this time I swerved the rifle slightly to the left of the target. I fired another shot, and I hit the target spot-on. I moved to another and mimicked what I had just done moments ago. It worked, and a resounding clang echoed through the empty fairgrounds. I swerved the barrel towards every target, firing repetitively. I hit every, single one.

I continued to walk through the open aisle. I restrained myself from stopping and playing with any other games; instead I focused on my main objective:

Getting to that island.

I arrived at the Ferris wheel that I had spotted from outside the fair. I approached it cautiously and entered the lower-most carriage that was nestled neatly in its dock.

"Hey!" A gruff voice sounded in exclamation.

I whirled around to spot its owner. A weathered figure, slightly hunched over with a white mass of hair atop his wrinkled head, clutched an equally-as-old walking stick firmly beneath his lopsided form. I could tell that he was wearing dentures from the rather obvious fact that his teeth looked younger then he was. He looked grumpy, but the slight sparkle in his eyes told me that he was a man full of wisdom and that he also possessed the ability to share it with those who only bothered to listen.

"Good evening sir. I apologize for trespassing." I said as politely as possible. He simply gazed at me and smiled warmly.

"No harm done young man. Under ordinary circumstances I would be forced to call the police, but these are extraordinary times…" He ceased talking and turned his elderly grey eyes to the twinkling city lights three hundred meters and a world away. I tipped my head to the left curiously. "How so?" I asked.

The old man sighed before turning to face me. "Would you like to come to my office for some tea or coffee?" This time it was my turn to smile.

"You are a very kind man to offer a complete stranger who just broke the law a place to rest and a warm drink. Kind or foolish, I have not yet decided." I added the last part with a slight chuckle, and the man laughed with me.

"You know how it is, the older you get the more you desire some company. You are a good man, I can tell, and that is why I trust you. Please, follow me." The man beckoned, and I followed. Once again, I was following.

We arrived at a small wooden shack that resided precariously on the edge of the pier, and from within its bowels yellow light seeped through the windows and landed on the porch outside. The old man approached his doorway and held it open for me to enter first. I walked inside, and my immediate thought was 'cozy'. There was a small pile of blankets and a pillow or two strewn messily in one corner of the room, vaguely resembling a rectangular shape which I assumed to be the sleeping area. On the other side of the shack, which was actually only two meters away, a small bench was nestled comfortably in the corner of the northern and eastern wall. Atop the bench was an electric kettle, a few jars that were labeled 'Coffee' 'Tea' and 'Sugar' and various cutlery that resided beside a monitor that occasionally flickered to different camera feeds.

"Please, sit." He motioned for me to take a chair, and I did so.

"Thank you." The man simply smiled and nodded. He gestured to the bench behind him.

"What would you like? Tea, coffee, or boiled water?" I raised an eyebrow. Was he being serious? Boiled water? "Tea please" I replied without even thinking. The man nodded quickly again and poured some steaming water into a mug, before applying the tea bag and stirring. "Would you like milk, sugar or lemon?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any honey would you?" I inquired, slightly shocked at myself for demanding things, even if it was in a polite manner. The old man shook his head sadly. "Very sorry young man, but I ran out of honey only two nights ago."

"Thanks anyway. I'll have sugar then please. Two scoops."

What the Hell? Since when do I have tea with honey or, failing that, sugar, precisely two scoops of it! How come I know this, but nothing else?

The old man handed me the mug and I clutched it tightly, feeling the warmth travel through my numb fingers up to my chest. I felt the steam emanating from the tea itself, and I hovered my face over the pillar of warmth, allowing it to strike my cheeks and closed eyes and spread all over. It was a welcoming feeling, and I savored every second of it.

"Thank you for this, but I must ask: How could you tell that I was a trustworthy person?"

The old man laughed heartily. "Because if you weren't then I wouldn't have invited you in, now would I?"

I grinned "But what caused you to invite me here in the first place?"

"Because I saw that you were trustworthy, of course!" I sighed exasperatedly. This old man enjoyed toying with me, I surmised. Either that or perhaps he has lost a few marbles.

All of a sudden fear clutched my heart in its cold grip when a sudden realization dawned upon me.

Every person I have met in this twisted night have either died or left worse for wear…

"Strange times… Stranger then I have ever seen before in my sixty-odd years of living here in Jump City."

I turned to face the old man, who was in turn gazing out into the city once more. I didn't reply, and he continued.

"It seems that, not only is a murderous assassin on the loose in Jump City, but the Titans are all but… well, they're not working like they used to."

The Titans… "Are they the ones who live in the large, 'T' shaped building on the island?" The old man nodded.

"Aye. However, as of late they have been drifting slowly apart, and no-one knows why. That is not all however. There have been sightings, strange sightings of unnatural creatures, creatures that belong in fairy tales, not in a metropolis."

"Creatures? What kind of creatures?" The old man sighed.

"Some think them to be humans, others, wolves. 'Werewolves' is the more common term for them."

Werewolves? In Jump City?

"Werewolves are a myth, they aren't real creatures."

"Heh… Many people would hope that, but unexplained attacks from these so-called 'werewolves' have been steadily rising, but that's not the best part. Sightings of vampires, gargoyles, ghosts, even, have all been increasing. Some have gone as far as to say that they saw an angel. But of course, this is just crazy talk. The point is, the city is slowly falling into chaos, and the Titans seem disinterested to help maintain order. Strange times indeed…"

What have I gotten myself in to?

"What do you know of the Smiling Assassin?" I asked innocently.

"Only what they show us in the newspapers or on TV. That he's a bloodthirsty maniac who's extremely good at what he does." I nodded. This Smiling Assassin is a mystery, but a mystery that I intended to unravel.

"Excuse me, but I really must visit these Titans. Do you know of any way to cross the bay and reach their island?" The man's eyes brightened at this moment.

"Of course! I have my boat moored right outside! Finish your tea and we can go." He spoke enthusiastically, and I quickly sculled my drink without a second thought. I practically ran outside, astounded at my sudden bout of good fortune, and the man exited just behind me.

"This way. Hop in!" He said with a slight aura of pride at showing of his…boat?

It was a literal tin can. Where there once used to be wooden seats, broken and splintered pieces of wood remained, daring anyone stupid enough to sit on them. Countless assortments of fishing equipment littered the entire dinghy, and I had to take precautionary measures so as to not place myself atop a loose hook. The engine that propelled this boat was steered, not by a steering wheel, but by a metal rod attached to it, which prompted the driver to sit at the rear of the boat. Thankfully, the boat was not that fast and therefore presented no immediate threat to my health, traveling at only fifteen knots.

Before long we had arrived at the island, and the bow of the dinghy bumped gently on the sandy shore. I hopped off, and shook the old man's hand before waving him off. It then occurred to me that I never asked for his name.

I seem to have a bad habit for not for asking people's names, including my own…