"Say that to me again!" James shouted at him, sound echoing through the wine cellar.

"You may have really tried to stop me, but you failed Bland. You always do."

Bland noticed the red puddle around the man's leg growing, impeding his efforts to stand up.

"Oh let's see," he said, malice in his voice, "What was his name? George? It was sure fun cutting him up, a crowning jewel on top of my crown, a cherry on top of my bloody sundae... even after I killed all of those other agents too. "

James rummaged in his torn coat for his pistol, a small magnum. He was going to kill him.

"Listen Bland, I have a reason I am telling you all of this. I want to hear you scream before I kill you, but you don't have to die Bland. You can fulfill your destiny. All I need is your fear, your respect."

Bland grasped the handle of his gun, pulling it out with a shaky hand. As he held it in front of him, the assassin began to stand up.

"It looks like you don't want to help me, so join your director in hell!"

Bland cocked the gun, and pulled the trigger, firing at the man with the glowing eyes. Firing shot after shot, he began to think he may have killed him.

The hooded man stood there like nothing had happened. "The beauty of bulletproof armor." He chuckled as he drew his bloody machete up from the ground, eliciting an ear-piercing scraping sound.

"Bad move." He growled as he leapt at Bland, knife in hand.

He tried to pull the trigger, but it was out of ammunition. Bland didn't have time to duck.

The hooded man then pulled the knife out of his leg.

"I think you need a lesson in obedience, dog!" he said as he thrusted forward with his knife. James tried to dodge the blade; but it caught him on the shoulder. As he stumbled back toward the stairs, he felt blood drip down his suit.

"I guess there's no fun to be had today." He heard the man growl as he walked up the first steps.

"Traitor! You're a dirty traitor!" he screamed after Bland.

Bland dragged himself to the top of the stairs. He needed medical attention, and it was a good bet he wouldn't find any in the laundry room.

A stench of death invaded his nostrils and the room was dim and blood was splattered the floor.

As he dragged himself toward the doorway, he heard footsteps from the hall.

James Bland felt like he could collapse in a heap and never get up again. His nausea had returned, he was bleeding out fast, he was tired, and he was afraid.

It's a wonder I'm alive at all. He thought as he sat down against a washing machine. Then he remembered that he didn't close the door to the wine cellar.

Then Bland noticed something on the floor. As he crawled nearer, the stench of death grew more pungent. Holding back vomit, its features then fully came in to view. As he began to turn it over, he was shocked and crawled backward in to the washing machine again.

I just touched a dead body. He thought, shocked.

With what strength he had, he stood up and started toward the door again to the wine cellar to begin to trap his attacker in the basement. He pushed the door closed, and began to shove a washing machine toward the door.

Despite him being battered and bloody, he pushed the washing machine against the front of the door.

His hopes of survival shattered as he saw two more people walk in, balaclavas adorning their faces.

"Well well, what have we here?" a voice said.

Bland didn't need to look up, he already knew who was there.

"If you want to kill me just go ahead." James said.

There was a pause, and James decided to look at his surroundings, noticing a window in a corner near a washing machine.

"Time to die, traitor." Said one of the men as they raised a gun, aiming at him.

"Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean 'traitor'?" said Bland. He recalled the man in the trench coat calling him that.

"Don't you know, Bland?" he said, cocking his gun.

"How do all of you know my name?" Bland asked. He had pretty much ignored the fact that everyone seemed to know who he was. He wasn't as big an agent as James Bond.

"Because you worked alongside us once. You were going to join us. You betrayed us, so we decided that you needed to die. And congratulations! You wiped out half of our forces too after you escaped. "

"Escaped," James said "Escaped from where?"

"Escaped from us," the man said, "Escaped from Madskull."