A/N: For all my spoiled readers out there, here is the second chapter of the day! I could still use a few more reviews for the last chapter, and for this one! More of Greg! You love me! Give him a hug, he needs it!

Chapter 10

Greg had barely heard the name. McPherson. He didn't recognize the name, but maybe it was the new identity from witness protection. He really didn't know. Something about Nick having that information didn't sit right with him, but he couldn't think of anything else. He repeated the name over and over again so he wouldn't forget even though he'd been told only five seconds before. Nick was talking to him again, he could barely hear though. He was vaguely aware of himself objecting to something, but Nick stopped him, saying more. The world was blurring, he felt so tired. He never saw it coming. James had taken the phone and hit him with the gun. It wasn't very hard, just enough to daze him in normal circumstances, but he was so tired and weak. When the gun hit, his world went black.

James hung up the phone swiftly beginning his work. He truly hoped the call helped Greg figure out what was best for him. It had gone better than he expected. The kid completely broke down after hearing Nick's voice. He hadn't expected that. But it worked to his advantage. His men made short work of lifting the unconscious Greg into a chair and tying his hands behind his back to the chair, at a much too short length. Even with no room to move from the ropes he still sagged against them heavily. He crushed an ammonia tablet under his nose. Greg groaned, slowly stirring, trying to escape the smell but he couldn't. His eyes fluttered open and a moment later he groggily sat back, desperate for relief from the tight ropes. None came. James grabbed another chair, spinning it around to sit on it backwards, resting his arms on the back. Greg was looking at him warily.

"Good to see you awake Gregory. Did you enjoy that little phone call?" Greg didn't answer. "Well?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Fine, well get down to business. Who is the witness."

"No."

"Okay." he nodded to the man standing behind him. The man pushed Greg as far forward as possible and pressed a knife deep into his back, dragging in down to just past the top hem of his jeans. Greg grunted and winced, desperately trying to remain stoic. It seemed to be the only thing he had left to hold onto, his stubborn pride. He could feel the warm blood dripping down his back, staining his jeans. He kept his focus on James, not wanting to give the man behind him with the knife any attention.

"I'll ask you again, the witness?" Greg braced himself for what was coming as he remained silent. This time the man started just above the hairline on the back of his neck. He pushed it deep, nearly to the handle, dragging it so slowly down his back. It was impossible to remain stoic, he cried out in fresh and old pains. The knife stopped at the farthest point of his lower back, withdrawing and gave a quick slash at the shoulder. He cried out gasping. The room was beginning to spin again. He heard James ask him why he wouldn't just give him the name. That it would be so much easier for him.

"I don't have the right…to sacrifice, someone else's life….even to save…mine." it was getting hard to speak. The small statement winded him. James was looking at him curiously for a moment. Then he scowled.

"I hate it when I get self-sacrificing wanna be heroes, they're so annoying." he sighed. "Alright my good friend here will work with you for a bit. Don't make this harder than it has to be for you." Greg gulped as James got up and left. The man that had been behind him sauntered in circles like a shark around him for a few minutes, with a complete sense of ease. It was unnerving. Greg tried to keep him out of though, gulping the nervous lump quiet, but he couldn't. He made another circle, stopping directly in front of Greg, kneeling down until he was eye to eye with him.

"Me and you, we're going to have fun together." he grabbed his chin so Greg had to look him in the eye. Greg shuddered. The eyes were cold hard and empty. They were soulless eyes. This man was a killer never plagued by guilt. A man without a conscience. There would be no mercy there. He stood again as the door opened and James entered the room again, a soda and plate mounded with grill cheese sandwiches hot out of the pan. Greg's mouth watered. Food, drink. It hurt him, the delicious smell. He gulped again. James had sat down next to a small table and was beginning to eat, to watch the show.

The man was again out of Greg's sight and it scared him to death. He would never know what had been worse, the anticipation or the actual event. Either way, the man went to work. He would start, slowly dragging the knife down his back creating long, deep bloody gashes. Greg lost count after the sixth and soon found himself trying to count the number of spins the room went around, but it went too fast. His back was swiftly soaked in blood. He didn't know how long it had been before James signaled that it was time for questioning. The man stepped back. Greg panted the pain coursing through his body. It was hard to breath anyways, but now it was excruciating, the tiniest breaths.

"Well my good Gregory, I will ask you again what the name of my witness is?" Greg swayed about slightly, finding it quite the challenge to maintain his balance. Tied to the chair or not, he could not maintain steadiness.

"W-won't tell y-you." the man didn't hesitate at slashing his back at least five times. Greg sagged forward heavily with a groan.

"It would be in your best interest, Greggo, to tell me what I want. It is but a simple question and is the only question that I will ask you."

"T-then I w-won't have a u-use t-to you. You'll j-just k-kill me." James smiled. The boy was the thinking kind. He was right of course.

"Do not fear my dear Gregory, I will not kill you once I have the name. I give you my word." Greg looked him in the eye not believing him, but if he kept James talking of other things, perhaps the knife would stay far from him.

"Y-you've done too m-much j-just for a name and l-let me g-go alive." James smiled. The boy was very quick indeed.

"Oh have I?"

"The phone call."

"The hope that you would accept the advice for your own welfare."

"The video tape?"

"Very well, you are intelligent indeed. There is indeed more to be attained then just a name, though if you gave me the name, your life would depend only on whether your friends were willing to cooperate for your sake. Tell me Greg, would they really want to have you back at all?"

"Yes, yes they would."

"Then you have nothing to fear once I have the name my friend."

"Y-you are no friend of m-mine." James sighed heavily.

"Very well. The name?"

"No" more slashing followed by a slow drag. It was agony. He couldn't hold back the scream as the knife cut so unbearably deep. How much more of this could he take. The knife cut again and he broke.

"McPherson!" he yelled it but it was horribly slurred. James held up a pausing hand. The knife did not return.

"What was the name?"

"McPherson McPherson McPherson." he was sobbing with pain. James stood.

"I'll look into the name's validity. For now you get reprieve. You better hope I come back believing you speak the truth." Greg sagged as far forward as possible, his arms thankfully went numb long ago. A single mercy afforded for his broken wrist. He was so tired, so much pain. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. His stomach growled at him viciously, the smell of grilled cheese still lingered in the air. He hoped the name would work, and though his memory was not serving him well at all, he had the distinct feeling that the name McPherson, was not the witness. It was not long before Greg was barely able to keep his eyes open even at mere slits. Slowly sleep overcame him, the exhaustion overwhelming him.

James wandered about, somewhat bored. He still did not know if the name had been false or not, it was still being researched. Until he knew if it was false he could not bother the boy. He would not last much longer, but of course that wasn't the point. If he got his friends scared enough, they would give in to his demands. One of the reasons why he'd become such a successful crime lord was because he promised all who would work for him protection. He would do his best to keep them from being convicted, but unlike most other crime lords, if they did end up being convicted, his protection still held and they were promised to be broken out, either on or off the side of the law. Although it was rare that any of his men were ever successfully convicted, there had been a few and he'd been given the chance to prove that he would not dessert them and they were now enjoying their freedom again.

He found he had wandered idly back towards the man that he'd assigned to research the name. He had to have found it by now. The man was hunched over a computer, the keyboard keys clacking loudly. He stood for a moment before the man noticed his boss' presence. He stood quickly and gave his report promptly. James nodded, not very surprised. The name was a false lead, far from unexpected. Though, you couldn't blame the boy for trying. It had certainly bought him some time, though not a lot of time. He sauntered back towards the room with Greg, giving the man still in the room a curt nod. The man smiled devilishly and pulled out something similar to a cat of nine tails. It was a downsized version, not nearly as lethal or vicious, but it would certainly shred his back. Greg jolted awake with a cry at the first hit, given no time to recover as hit after hit landed.

James pulled out his silver, beautifully engraved pocket watch. Fifteen minutes before the conference. Fifteen minutes trying to wrench the name from a suicidal stubborn boy. Fifteen minutes of cruelty. Fifteen minutes in which Greg was brought to death's door.