James was in the living room packaging half a pint of Claire Bennet’s blood. The girl in question was unconscious and tied to a dinning room chair in the middle of the room. Every time she began to wake, the Hitman injected her with a sedative again. He couldn’t be doing with a crying, begging woman. It wouldn’t change anything, more it would just further annoy him.
Along with the blood he had taken a lock of her hair, pulled out all the fingernails on her left hand and cut away a sliver of her flesh. The man had watched in amazement as Claire had healed. James chewed the inside of his cheek and his brow furrowed. If there was going to be no lasting marks, it would do no good to take photos to threaten Bennet with. So he had to resort to more… torturous methods.
He had taken to pacing the living room, not realising that his Boss was now upstairs and safe in his bed. Well, the Hitman would hardly call it safe. Whenever Jim was with Sylar, James was on edge. He didn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him.
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