[ WP ] A Villain comes to regret all the things he has done in the past and travels back in time to stop his younger self .

The eyes of the man as the life had slipped from him still haunted him today. It was the fear and confusion in those eyes that he couldn ’ t forget. Those eyes would appear again in his dreams every night, in a hundred different faces. He simply couldn ’ t shake it. This had all gone down back when Jack was nothing more than a kid. At 23 years old he ’ d been so eager to be the real deal that he ’ d almost dared himself to do it. It was the only man he ’ d ever killed. A stranger. Just to prove that he could. Nowadays he prided himself on living honorably. People joke about it, but there is a code amongst thieves. He picked targets that were insured or who were so rich they'd never notice what was missing. He damn sure wouldn ’ t get involved if there was a chance that someone could get hurt. He was too old for physical confrontation these days anyway. 
 
 But the dreams. 
 
 That ’ s why he was here at Time Lab. If he could just go back and stop himself that one night he ’ d be able to prevent the recurring nightmare, the relentless thoughts about who the man was or what he might have become. 
 
 The attendant pressed a bunch of buttons and the pod filled with white light. What seemed like seconds later the door was opened by a different attendant in a flannel shirt. Hello nineteen ninety two. 
 
 Heading across town, his anxiousness gave way to the sort of nostalgia only time travel can give you. The Yankees game was on the radio - the damn 7th inning already, so he knew younger Jack would already be at the bar for a bit of dutch courage and the ball game. After the game is when it would happen. Young Jack would leave the bar, see the man in the back alley and then it would all go down. He was going to be cutting it fine. 
 
 After what seemed like the shortest two innings ever, they finally pulled up at the bar. He flipped the cab driver a single hundred and stepped out of the cab. He would have run if he was still able. He was going to be cutting it close. He opened the door and scanned quickly. Two middle aged women sat at the bar, and there was an empty glass with two cubes of ice sitting in front of a third stool. That ’ s still how Jack still took his whiskey. It meant he was too late. But there might still be time to stop it. 
 
 He headed back out into the street and peered around the corner to where he knew the altercation would commence. That ’ s when the knife entered his back. He spun around and tried to speak, but only blood came out of his mouth. Then the hands were on his neck. He looked up at his younger self and saw those eyes staring back at him. He ’ d dreamt about them every night but missed them in the mirror every morning. At least - he thought - he could die with honor - having never killed another human being. After all these years, he finally felt at peace. 

