The old man and the newspaper

The old man sat at the park bench reading the day's newspaper. He was impeccably  turned out in a crisp, white linen shirt, dark blue suit and a regimental tie. His thinning gray hair was cut very short, showing scalp below; everything about him screamed military. The old man didn't seem interested in reading the newspaper in its entirety, as he kept returning to the front page time and again. He kept rereading the date and the headline, as if unsure whether it was truly today's paper. He kept glancing at his wristwatch, as if awaiting the arrival of someone special.

There was another paper on the park bench,  to the old man's left, which was exactly the same as the one in his hand - the same publication, the same date ... exactly the same except for the headline. Startled by a presence to his right, the old man turned to find a tall, handsome man, dressed entirely in black, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, standing before him. "It's time", said the man in a sonorous voice, that brooked no argument.

Major John Watkins (retd.), of the Royal Fusiliers, having lived a life governed by honour and duty, was used to following orders. He carefully folded and placed the newspaper in his jacket's inner pocket before rising and following the mysterious man, who had begun to walk away. He glanced back at the newspaper he left behind on the park bench, as it started to disappear. He barely finished reading the headline before the newspaper vanished altogether - EX-ARMY MAN KILLS TWIN GRANDCHILDREN IN FREAK CAR ACCIDENT. He could have sworn he had engaged the handbrake before parking his car in his son's driveway, where the twins were playing. He smiled contentedly as he tapped his pocket which contained today's real paper, as he followed the dark man. He'd always said he'd sell his very soul to the Devil to keep his family safe.