The helicopter flew west, off the coast of Savagery and over the Permide Ocean, for nearly an hour before one of the men in tactical suits announced they were approaching their destination. As badly as Coonor wanted to lean out the side of the open aircraft to see where they were headed, he couldn’t. He was glued to his seat in fear. He imagined he would be sweating profusely if cold air was’t sweeping across his face. Flying over water for so long had been torture in it’s own way, but the idea of being stuck on a remote island with Ellen and whatever kind of company she kept was even worse. What other choice do I have? He glanced at the open door of the helicopter, careful not to redistribute his weight at all. Could I unbuckle myself and get out that door before these men stopped me? And would it kill me or would they just come get me? It felt far more like he would simply end up dying while trying to escape from people that didn’t seem to want him dead. He remained still, silently praying that Ellen simply wanted to help him lay low for awhile before she returned him to his apartment in Savagery. Or anywhere else but here. He wasn’t picky. Sadly, something told him she likely already had her next devious schemes lined up. And furthermore, he was likely a big part of them. The kiss he had shared with Ellen on the balcony had been wonderful. As enjoyable as any he’d ever experienced. But no kiss from anyone seemed like it should outweigh the brutality of blowing three people to bits. If not more.

The helicopter began to descend. All hope of escaping was gone now. Not that there was much before. He shifted his focus to hoping the landing went smoothly. Deep down he knew there was little to worry about. These mercenaries or criminals, whatever they were, behaved and performed like professionals. Simply landing a helicopter under no duress was surely something the pilot could do in his or her sleep. Still. He had a tendency to assume the worst. A few minutes later he was hopping out of the helicopter with the aid of one of the men in tactical suits. The side of the man’s black helmet read, Delta Ray, in gray letters. He’d never heard of him.

Connor’s nerves settled immensely as his feet hit the hard surface of the mansion’s helipad. There was a man dressed in an all-gray sweat suit standing twenty feet away. One hand was blocking the extreme winds being generated by the propeller and the other was waving for Connor to come to him. He turned to Ellen to wait for her to step out of the helicopter and join him but she had not moved from her seat. She simply pointed toward the man in sweats and blew him a kiss. Delta Ray climbed back into the helicopter and waited for the pilot to take off. With no other choice but to wander toward the stranger, Connor did so. The sounds of the helicopter taking off behind him felt as though they were taking any remnants of his old life with them.

“Connor?” asked the man in sweats when things were quieter. He wasn’t a particularly big man. Black hair that had been messed up by the wind from the helicopter and a face that reminded Connor of a young man he used to know, Pauly, The Pounder, Timbs. An inmate at The Barico Island Penitentiary. Pauly was serving what essentially boiled down to multiple life sentences though. This couldn’t be him. Besides, Pauly was an intimidating man. Massive and fierce. Eyes that could send chills down a man’s spine and more scars all over his body than could be counted. There wasn’t much to be physically threatened about by this stranger. No weapons. No remarkable muscles. Nothing extraordinary at all. Yet, Connor couldn’t help but tense slightly when the man extended his hand.

“Yes, sir, Connor Kove,” he said and shook the man’s smaller hand.

The stranger said, “You can call me Novocaine.” He spread his arms wide to present the world around them. “Welcome to Queen’s Island.” Clearly named after Ellen Pakarhanni who was often referred to as Queen Bee in the world of crime. It had taken him some time to put a name to a face after Ellen had shown up at his work. In hindsight, it seemed so obvious. He had heard plenty of stories about Queen Bee and her poison, but no one expects to encounter an infamous criminal.

Connor looked around. Darkness made it difficult to see much of the island, but the area immediately around the large house they were standing on was illuminated by several tall flood lights. From what he could see, Ellen had spared no expense in regards to suiting the house with luxurious amenities. An oddly shaped pool filled much of the backyard and had been built into the surrounding environment in such a way that a small waterfall, most likely man-made, flowed into the pool. A dozen beach chairs surrounded the pool and a small tiki bar was positioned right next to a hot tub near the pool. The little space that was left was dedicated to a single clay tennis court, fenced in and well-maintained. The front yard was little more than a long driveway, forming a circle in front of the mansion and disappearing into the wilderness as it went off to explore the island. Most noticeably to him though, were the squawks and other noises coming from the countless trees that spread out in every direction around them. Tall and thick, intimidating and ominous. Home to hundreds of ways to die. That he was sure of. “It’s lovely,” Connor said.

“Follow me.” The man called Novocaine had a very obvious relaxed vibe to him as he turned and walked away. He wasn’t annoyed to be meeting Connor, but he didn’t seem to care much either. It was exactly how Connor wanted every new encounter to go. He sped along behind his casual host.

Novocaine led him through a door like the roof accesses on the tall buildings in Savagery, then down a well-lit stairwell. To this point, Connor had to admit. Things were looking so bad. He had no intention of leaving the premises of course, not with the wilderness lurking all around, but that wasn’t an issue. He could make do spending his days in a luxurious mansion. Novocaine stopped at a door at the bottom of the five flights of stairs. He turned and smiled, sending the first wave of real concern through Connor in several minutes. “These people won’t give you shit if you just keep your head down and your mouth shut,” Novocaine said. “Do anything stupid and you might not make it to sunrise. Let your relationships with them grow organically. Alright?”

That would be easy enough. Connor had been following two similar rules for most of his life. When he was a young boy his mother used to take him and his brother to grocery stores and pack their pockets with small items she knew would fit easily enough not to draw any attention. She’d say, “Don’t speak and don’t act like a fool or I’ll whip your ass until it bleeds.” Connor’s mother wasn’t quite the epitome of a loving mother but she also did everything in her power to make sure they ate each night. Somehow that said more about her in his eyes than anything she said or did to them. “That won’t be a problem,” Connor said to Novocaine. As for making friends organically, well, that was his strategy to begin with.

“Good. You can play cards with me and my boys or you can chill and watch television at the bar. But you don’t leave the room. Understood?” Connor nodded, thinking again about the times he spent receiving instructions from his mother during her criminal escapades.

As soon as the other man opened the heavy door that led into the mansion proper, laughter and curse words could be heard. Novocaine grinned at Connor’s obvious apprehension then swung the door open wider. Novocaine was met with gruff comments about what had taken him so long but Connor was mostly ignored, barring a few glances. Novocaine dismissed the comments with a grumble of his own before yelling to someone across the room to bring him a beer. His demand was met with crude rejection from the bartender.

Connor had no intentions of ending up on the bad end of some gambling squabble. So, he quickly assessed the room for the best place to make himself unnoticed. He realized even quicker that there was neither a good place to hide nor many people to hide from. Novocaine and three others sat at one of the tables closest to the bar and a short, pudgy bartender stood behind the bar that ran the length of one of the short sides of the room. The room was well-lit, just as the stairwell had been, and much cleaner than any of the bars in downtown Savagery. All in all, he couldn’t complain. Except for the smoke that seemed to fill the room.

“Hey!” called the bartender. “You need anything?” Connor started his walk toward the bar in awkward silence as he hesitated to respond too loudly to the bartender from across the room.

To his surprise, none of the men or women at the table cared to look up from their card game. However, the largest one said in an unusually deep voice, “New guy?” Novocaine replied with a nod and demanded that they all just get back to the game. There was a certain way in his tone that let Connor know the man had his back.

Connor took a seat at the bar and greeted the bartender quietly. The man gave off a confident vibe. The kind that likely formed after years of doing the same job perfectly, until it had become a routine etched into the very fabric of his existence. Four televisions were mounted to the wall above two stretching shelves stocked with a wide variety of high-end liquor. Three of the televisions were turned to various sports events but the fourth was on the news. The coverage was of the fiery scene at The Amelia Hotel & Casino. He took a deep breath and put his face in his hands.

“Hey, new guy,” the bartender said. “Is that you on tv?” Connor looked up to see a picture of himself on the television screen. “Yep, that’s you.” The bartender was studying his face intently and then looking at the picture on the screen. “You did all that for Ellen?”

“No,” Connor muttered, still mortified that his face was plastered all over television for the entire city to see. His boss at the penitentiary came to mind. Drew came to mind. His corpse. People would surely link him to the man’s death now.

“Looks like the world thinks otherwise, kid.” The bartender grabbed the remote from a counter behind the bar and turned up the volume.

A news reporter appeared as the picture of Connor shrank. Her name was Erin Teybet. Connor recognized her from years of watching the nightly news with Drew in the security surveillance room at work. She said, “For those of you just joining us. An unmarked helicopter was seen firing a missile into the penthouse suite on the one hundred sixtieth floor of The Amelia Hotel & Casino. Surprisingly, only three deaths have been confirmed thanks to the use of the controversial OnuTech during the construction of the building. One of those deaths is believed to be local crime lord Reginald Pakarhanni.” A picture of Reginald appeared on screen. The card players had paused their game once again and were now grumbling amongst themselves at their table. “Pakarhanni, more commonly referred to as The Soul of Savagery, had lived in the penthouse suite for nearly a decade with his wife, Ellen Pakarhanni. There is no news as to whether Ellen was one of the bodies found inside-” The reporter interrupted herself with breaking news. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m being told that new information has been obtained from an anonymous source within the last half hour.” The picture of Connor appeared again. A new picture. It was one that had not been taken all that long ago by Ellen Pakarhanni herself, hours before leaving her home in Savagery. Erin continued, “The man mentioned before, Connor Kove, has been confirmed to have been involved in the incident that took place in the midnight hours this morning.” Erin fell silent, clearly listening to the people in her ear. “It appears we have footage from inside the suite just minutes before the explosion.”

Connor’s heart sank as his picture faded and a perfectly clear video from inside the penthouse suite began. Connor sat alone at the marble table, staring at the room nervously. Where’s Ellen?! It’s been altered. The reporter spoke over the video, repeating the information she was being fed from producers. “You can see here, Kove sat at the table casually until he was engaged by Mr. Pakarhanni.” Reginald appeared. A moment later, Connor delivered the incriminating photo to Reginald and then the odd discussion that had occurred between Ellen and Reginald somehow looked as though it had occurred between Connor and Reginald. Everything was similar to what had happened but altered just enough to pin the incident on Connor and Connor alone. He didn’t believe he deserved to be forgiven for his involvement, but he certainly didn’t deserve all the blame. One moment in the video seemed to confuse the news reporter; the glass doors going from closed to open during what looked like a strange cut in the footage. By the end of the video, Connor was the only one standing on the balcony when the helicopters arrived. Whoever was responsible for editing the video was a master at his or her craft. Even Connor believed he had acted alone and he knew better. The last image was of the missile being launched into the suite. The new station cutoff the video before the explosion.

The bartender muted the television. The entire room was quiet until one of the men playing cards said, “Don’t feel bad. She’s done it to all of us. She makes you a wanted man, but she also protects you with every resource in her power. It’s best if you just go along with what she wants now.”

Connor turned back to the bartender. The whole situation had thoroughly shocked his system. “I’ll take a glass of bourbon,” he said and looked up at the television. The video was up again, as was his picture. The reporter was focusing on the moment in which Connor had used his powers inside the suite. Even if she didn’t know that. The word Glitch appeared under his picture as if giving him the nickname.

“Glitch,” the bartender said. He nodded his head approvingly as he handed Connor his drink. “I like it.”