Smack dab in the middle of downtown Savagery sat the home of the largest criminal empire in the nation. It came in the form of a one hundred sixty floor skyscraper known as The Amelia Hotel & Casino and it housed the members of three different criminal organizations that had managed to put aside their differences, mostly, and emerge from a pool of competitors as the most influential crime group in the country. Arguably, the world. What they became were The Lords of Savagery. Led by a group of five men and women that had been at the top of their respective gangs before the merger. While no individual was technically in charge, a man named Giorgi Thomacito was, without a doubt, the leader of the Lords of Savagery. The organization and every member in it owed their success and wealth to Giorgi Thomacito. Sometimes referred to as Barracuda. Thomacito funded the cost of building the awe-inspiring hotel single-handedly and bridged the gap between his previous gang and its two greatest rival gangs, The Black Eyes and Third Street Blues, with offers of peace and huge gifts of money, cars, and territory. Now, as a unified effort, Giorgi and the other gang leaders in his empire had a hand in nearly every major and minor operation in the city. And their long reach outside the city was slowly tightening as well.

However, to avoid becoming too much of a target for ambitious up-and-comers, and the simple fact that the leaders of the organization were needed elsewhere often, Giorgi and the other high-ranking members used a placeholder of sorts named Reginald Pakarhanni as the face of the empire in Savagery. They called him the “Soul” of Savagery and with that title they handed him the reins of day to day operations of the organization, only expecting him to keep them notified of major occurrences and developments. As the Soul of Savagery, Pakarhanni lived in the penthouse suite on the one hundred sixtieth floor. The suite was reinforced with state of the art armor and security systems that were developed from OnuTech, a highly effective but widely considered experimental form of futuristic technology that was quickly being termed the next big thing in crime. Of course, these types of material should have been banned during the construction process but whatever the Lords wanted, they got.

Thus, the fact that Connor Kove, a relatively innocent young man up until two days ago, found himself sitting inside the impenetrable fortress seemed impossible. And would have been if he had tried to enter the place on his own merit. Something he would have never tried as a man who would turn the channel during scary scenes in movies. In an effort to tame the nerves he was feeling now he looked around the room. The suite was extravagant to say the least. It was split into three major sections; the kitchen and dining room area, the living room, and a loft where the master bedroom was located. The loft was protected by a waist-high glass barrier topped with a mahogany railing and overlooked the living room. In which sat a grand piano, a large leather sectional and a wide variety of high-class art and smaller pieces of furniture. A crystal-clear wall of glass windows overlooked the entire southside of Savagery. And while the windows were apparently made of a special glass that could withstand the brunt of a small missile, they could also be reinforced by two metal doors that could slide closed at the press of a button. The dining room sat adjacent to the living room but felt separated by a country-mile due to the size of the rooms. A beautiful pool table that Connor wondered if had ever been used sat in between the two rooms. He sat at a marble table that could fit ten people and seemed more appropriate for a conference room than a penthouse. Beside him sat the Soul of Savagery’s wife, if she could be called that anymore.

Her name was Ellen Pakarhanni and she was drop dead gorgeous. Long, light brown hair with blond highlights that was done up somewhere between curled and straight. Eyes that reminded him of a beautiful forest, and light tan skin so smooth it made her seem angelic. Two gaudy parts of Ellen Pakarhanni were her dark black lipstick and her matching fingernails that were made of OnuTech. They made her look lethal and less attractive in his opinion, but he understood quite well why she did it. A fact he wished he could forget.

Rewind forty-eight hours and Connor Kove could be found sitting at a desk in the security surveillance room at Barico Island Penitentiary. Most likely fighting boredom by playing cards with his coworker, Drew, or reading comic books. Only occasionally watching the televisions that showed the footage from the security cameras all over the penitentiary. That is until there was a knock at the door and Drew stood to answer it, unlocking it without asking who was there or looking through the square window too closely. A whole lot of laziness and a definite breach of protocol. When Drew unlocked the thick door and opened it, a woman in a slim-fit yellow dress, matching high-heels, and decked out in expensive jewelry met him with a simple question. She wanted to know if he was Connor Kove. When Drew said no and pointed across the room to Connor, Ellen grabbed Drew by the face with both hands and gave him the most intimate kiss the man had likely ever experienced. Unfortunately, it was also his last. By the time Ellen had straightened out her dress, Drew was convulsing on the floor, blood dribbling from his mouth, his eyes rolling backward in their sockets. The deadly intruder looked at Connor, smiled, and told him that if he didn’t want the same fate, he would cooperate with her. Connor had nodded his head calmly as she shut the door and sat down across the table from him. Fast forward forty-eight hours and Connor had helped Ellen orchestrate the infiltration of the penitentiary’s death row, ensured the escape of a death row inmate, and walked out of the penitentiary with Ellen without a word to his bosses or friends about quitting his job or Drew’s unfortunate death. Something he hoped would not be pinned on him.

Even if Ellen had not made it quite clear why she had chosen Connor to help her, he could have easily suspected it was due to his powers. After an unfortunate event in his childhood, Connor was left in a coma for nearly a year. During that time images began to form in his mind. At first, they were blurry and jumbled. Practically useless. He considered them memories he couldn’t quite recall. But the longer he stayed in his comatose state, the more vivid each image became. Not only that, but an incredible number of images appeared. They began to sort themselves out in his mind as if a child was putting together a series of pictures to indicate a sequence for a teacher. It didn’t take long for him to realize he was not just looking at his own memories. He had a catalog of every moment in history, past, present, and future. When he would hear his nurses working around him, he could tell if their intentions changed, their portion of his timeline changed. Motivated by his life up until then, he decided to keep his powers a secret. That’s what his mother would have wanted him to do. Eventually, after he had woken up from his coma, he realized that if he wanted to, he could take a moment in the future and remove it from the timeline altogether. And more intriguingly, it didn’t seem to impact him whatsoever. With time, he learned that between manipulating the intentions of others and his own ability to remove moments in time. He could get away with a lot of mischief. Such was a skill he had tucked away in his pocket years ago; when guilt had finally convinced him to do so.

Suddenly, there was a voice calling from the loft. “What did I do to deserve a visit from you, honey?” Connor looked up nervously to see a tan-skinned man in a black robe leaning on the railing of the glass wall, grinning at his own snide remark. A thick cigar was held loosely between his first two fingers on his right hand. It’s smoke billowing toward the ceiling. His smile was soft but threateningly powerful.

Ellen, who to this point, had been texting furiously, put her phone into the purse on her lap and spun her chair toward her husband. “Reggie, baby. How have you been?” Ellen was well-trained in the art of seduction based on the smooth sexiness of her voice.

Reginald ran his hand through his thick black hair. “Cut the shit, Ellen. What do you want?” Connor had heard the stories surrounding Reginald but he had never seen the man in person. Only pictures that would show up in the penitentiary occasionally.

“Reggie, I’m hurt. Can’t a woman just spend some time in her own house and not be suspected of wanting something?”

“Sure they can,” Reggie said. “If they’re not a conniving, cheating bitch.” He began his descent down the winding stairs that led down from the loft. “And sadly, that’s no better way to describe you, love.” Connor’s anxiety began to rise as he realized the rumors that suggest neither spouse respected the sanctity of their marriage any longer seemed to be true. The tension between the former lovers grew with every step the crime lord took. The fact that if they erupted into a brawl or shootout, he was the only one that could stop them, and more likely, would be a casualty of war, made his hands clammy.

War was avoided, at least temporarily, when Reginald made for the kitchen counter, where a half-full glass of wine awaited the connoisseur. He picked up the glass and turned to the sink. “Seven hundred dollars worth of wine down the drain,” he said as he dumped the wine out. Followed by the entire bottle that had been sitting open nearby. “But when a woman whose specialty is poison shows up in your house unannounced, I suppose it’s for the best.”

“Shit Reggie, just sit down. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead by now,” Ellen said.

Reginald simply chuckled with odd warmth and moved toward a wine rack at the end of the center island. He chose a bottle with little thought and joined them at the marble table, choosing to sit at the far end. Well out of reach of his wife’s poisonous fingernails and lips. “Alright. You have my attention. I mean if you don’t want me dead and you don’t want to argue. What’s left? Do you want to fuck?” The suave smoker looked at Connor. “Is that why you brought your lackey? Exploring new fantasies?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Besides, there isn’t a fantasy out there that I haven’t explored.” Ellen placed her hand on Connor’s forearm. It took everything in his power not to become so tense that his discomfort would be noticeable. “And Connor isn’t a lackey.” She patted his arm. “But we’ll get to him shortly.” Her fingers slid slowly up his arm. He didn’t believe she intended on letting her venomous fingernails slip through his skin and paralyze him or kill him but simply having to contemplate the question made him sweat even more. Ellen continued nonchalantly. “First, I want to settle a feud between us.”

The top of Reginald’s robe fell open slightly as he leaned forward in interest, exposing the thick gray hair on his chest. “Is that right? And which one might that be?”

Ellen removed her hand from Connor’s arm then reached into the purse on her lap and dug around. The sense of relief that washed over him was short lived, remembering quickly that he had seen her put a gun in the purse earlier in the night. Several tense moments passed before Ellen placed a small picture on the table and said, “Connor, sweetie. Would you mind handing that to Reginald?” Connor knew better to object but walking toward one of the deadliest men in the city felt like he was cutting his own throat. He stood. Uncomfortably and with weak legs. He slid the picture toward the edge of the table, sneaking only the most discreet glance at the picture as he could before turning his eyes to Reginald and walking slowly toward him. The Soul of Savagery grinned in amusement at Connor’s discomfort.

Connor didn’t speak as he handed the rectangular photo to Reginald. He simply smiled awkwardly and nodded his head slightly, making sure not to let his senses relax. Reginald smiled the whole time. “Thanks, kid. Now get away from me.” Connor obeyed. He was only halfway back to his seat when Reginald said angrily, “How the fuck did you get this?” Connor jumped but Ellen just leaned back in her chair and smiled. “How the fuck did you get this, Ellen? Who the fuck took this?” The picture was of Reginald standing over a woman’s corpse in what looked like a cellar. A gun hanging at his side.

“We live in a city full of criminals. There are detectives that make a lot of money keeping an eye on them.” She grinned. “On us.”

“Reservoir,” muttered Reginald. “That sly motherfucker.” He slammed the photo down on the table. Connor jumped again. “This proves nothing.”

“How does it not, Reggie? The gun is still smoking.” The Soul of Savagery looked angry on the outside but it was obvious his cold, calculated mind was searching for a way out desperately. Ellen said, “Don’t worry. I have no intention of using this against you. This is more about my own satisfaction. Having this moment, seeing that look on your face.” Reginald’s previously angry face melted into a frown, then quickly turned into a stoic glare. “My own mother, Reggie. She loved you like a son, Reggie. Why? Why did you do it?”

“What did your father used to say?” Reginald scratched his jaw. “Only children are foolish enough to dig around in the mud.”

“Fuck you, Reginald. That’s all I have to say. Fuck you.” Ellen stood and walked toward the huge glass windows looking out over the city. To Reginald it looked as though she was just letting off some steam, but Connor knew it was all part of her plan. On her wrist was a watch that could be used to signal the start of phase two.

Reginald was completely unfazed. He turned his focus to Connor. “I’d run the first chance you get, kid. Spoiled brats like Ellen have a knack for breaking their toys.” He seemed oddly comfortable discussing his wife’s sexual escapades. Like a man that had come to terms with something years before. Though, Connor didn’t believe that was why Ellen had found him. He smiled as he looked down at the ashtray in front of him. When his hand disappeared inside his robe, Connor tensed.

“I-I’m not-” Connor stopped himself when he realized he had no idea what to say. How did anyone know what to say to a man like Reginald Pakarhanni? Stories of the man’s ruthlessness spread through the penitentiary every few days as new inmates arrived with news from the seedy underworld of the city. In his opinion, the most atrocious example was when Pakarhanni had a young man kill his own parents in order to avoid being killed himself. The boy was eventually caught a year later and sentenced to death. And all because the kid had accidently sold drugs in the wrong area of the city.

When Reginald’s hand reappeared it was holding a lighter. Connor was wiping his forehead of sweat when the other man said, “Why’d she bring you here, kid? My time is valuable. Waste anymore of it and I will make sure my men find you when Ellen’s not around.” The impatient crime lord looked much less upset than he sounded. He blew smoke from his lungs casually.

“Leave him alone.” Ellen was approaching the table. Whether they were real or not, Connor was unsure, but there were streams of tears down her cheeks. “He doesn’t know anything. He’s here because had you told me the truth about my mother, I intended to show you what Connor could do for you. Instead, you were an ass. So, we’ll be leaving.” She looked at Connor. “Come on, Connor.” She gathered her purse from her seat, then tugged on Connor’s wrist to pull him up and out of his chair. He bit his lip in nervousness that she may knick his skin.

They were almost to the door when behind them, Reginald said, “She knew too much. She wasn’t meant to find out… but shit happens.”

Ellen stopped but didn’t turn around. “About?” she mumbled. Something told Connor she already knew but needed to hear it.

“The Branson mistake,” Reginald said.

Ellen turned around slowly. The look in her eyes sent fear through Connor. “You said that was taken care of. You said no one would say-” She stopped mid-sentence. Realization swept over her. “You son of a bitch.”

Reginald blew more smoke into the air. “You of all people should understand how all this works, Ellen. Besides, did you think you could fuck everything on two legs and I wouldn’t take an opportunity to retaliate?” He looked at Connor with clear disinterest in continuing his discussion with his wife. “So, what do you do, kid?”

“Hold on,” Ellen said angrily. She stepped toward Reginald. “You don’t get to blow off murdering my mother like she was some street thug.”

Reginald said, “You asked for the truth. I told you. I would have taken it to my grave if you hadn’t brought it up.” He looked back at Connor. “So?” Ellen was breathing heavily, so much so that Connor questioned if this was still part of an act.

The discomfort of tense silence made his mouth open. “I-I-I… um…” He hoped Ellen would change her mind and stop him from explaining his powers to Reginald. He had no interest in letting the Soul of Savagery know he had them. Doing so felt as though it was inviting trouble in the future. When Ellen didn’t speak he continued, “I can remove small moments in time from existence.”

Reginald looked intrigued. Extremely intrigued. He sat up straight in his chair and put his smoking cigar on the edge of the ashtray. “You don’t say. And what does that do to other people?”

The moment Ellen had explained and walked him through countless times before they left her gated home across town was rapidly approaching. He tried to hide his nerves. “Well, other people don’t feel a thing.” He swallowed hard. “They don’t even seem to know it happens. One moment they’re looking one way, staring at a picture. The next they’re facing the opposite direction if I want them to be. Just depends on how much time I remove, really. But no matter what, they’re none the wiser.” He glanced at Ellen, hoping she would stop the entire thing. Or takeover. She didn’t even notice him. She was staring daggers into Reginald’s heart.

“Show me,” Reginald said. Just like Ellen said he would. The ways he could use Connor were already circulating in his mind.

It was time. “Well.” He turned to the glass doors that led to a beautiful balcony outside. “Like your doors there.” He pointed in order to get Reginald’s eyes to turn to them also. It was crucial that Connor manage to manipulate Reginald’s intentions. On a normal night, he would never open the secure doors. But as Ellen suggested, if it meant gaining information about someone that might benefit him, Reginald would do anything. “If you open your doors there, I will close them in a blink of an eye so to speak.” Connor barely noticed Reginald turn back to him to eye him in suspicion. He had already tapped into the timeline of existence that was running through his mind at all times, progressing and changing with the ongoing world around him. He dug into the timeline, found the next five minutes in Reginald’s life and quickly realized that even though the man was initially suspicious, he had decided to open the doors. Connor owned him now.

When Connor refocused on the room around him, Reginald was walking across the room to the balcony. Before Reginald could make it to the doors, Connor dove back into the timeline. He removed the next ten seconds of Reginald’s life, the moments when he would have been opening the doors. He then removed the next sixty minutes. The hour during which Connor and Ellen would have left the penthouse suite through the front door. The hour during which Reginald had two prostitutes arrive and go to his bedroom with him. And more importantly, the hour during which Reginald would have closed his impenetrable glass doors. When all was said and done, Connor opened his eyes and turned to Ellen. He whispered, “It’s done.”

Noise came from the bedroom upstairs. Not the kind of noise to be alarmed of. But definitely the kind that made Ellen pause for a moment. A sliver of hurt feelings showed in her eyes. Then she was moving past Connor quickly and quietly. He followed her toward the open doors leading to the balcony. He watched her hips sway back and forth sexily. Effortless sex appeal. She made her way toward a painting of herself on the wall and pulled it open like a door. Connor continued onward to the balcony.

The cold night air chilled him quickly and thoroughly. He observed the hustle and bustle of the city below while he listened to the beeping sounds of the buttons on the safe Ellen was breaking into. There was the sound of helicopters in the distance. Their exit strategy. The lights on the helicopter appeared just as Ellen joined him on the balcony. Her hand touched his hip as she curled herself around him. Their faces were within inches of one another. Her breath warmed his cold lips. “You were brilliant,” she said.

“S-so were you.” Without thinking he said, “I’m sorry about your mother.” He was surprised he said it but it seemed like the right thing to do. Ellen looked as though they were the first kind words anyone had spoken to her in years.

“Kiss me,” she said. He must have shown on his face how mortified he felt about the idea because Ellen said, “Trust me.” The way she said it. She couldn’t be lying. The helicopters were getting closer. “Hurry,” she said. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. They stayed like that for several seconds as the sound of the helicopters grew louder above them. Ellen withdrew and much to his surprise, he was still alive.

They looked up to see two helicopters hovering above the balcony. Then two long ropes dropped toward them, the ends hitting the floor of the balcony hard. Two men dressed in black tactical suits were sliding down the ropes a moment later. The men landed beside them gracefully.

“Mrs. Pakarhanni,” one said from behind his mask. His voice was altered by a machine or program.

“Gentlemen. Thank you for being so punctual.”

Then Connor and Ellen were being attached to the men in black. As this happened, Connor saw Reginald appear in the loft. Naked. The helicopter the men had dropped out of lifted them up and hoisted them out over the city streets below. This part of the plan had not been discussed with Connor. He was terrified of heights. He clung to the man in black tighter than he had ever clung to anything in his life. As they swept through the air, he caught a glimpse of the second helicopter that had stayed behind. His eyes widened in disbelief as a missile sailed through the open doors of the penthouse suite, exploding in a fiery ball of death and destruction. The helicopter took off in the opposite direction of their own immediately. He looked at Ellen to see if it was part of her plan. She was staring coldly at the scene below. Something in her demeanor told him everything had gone just as planned.