When the Reaper Judges decide to step in the middle of the circus at nightfall with torrential rain outside, no one can do anything but wait for two things: soul reaping or recruitment. The Lindström siblings avoided that moment at all costs, but ho...
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❝ ... Twisted in torment and sick from abuse I envision your death as you hang from the noose Bleeding and choking and screaming for air No one will answer your screams of despair ❞
▬ SHIA LABEOUF, AngelMaker
⠀⠀⠀IT WAS A RAINY AFTERNOON when a very pissed and dirty James got out of the van, slamming the door and mumbling in how many languages his brain allowed him to remember, all the unhappiness with his team. His subordinates left the vehicles in silence as they watched the man drop the rifle on the floor and wipe his eyes to maintain the last dignity that yet remained.
"Mark what I say, you fucking bunch of fucking spoiled brats, I'm gonna fuck with the rest of your week. Personally" James threatened, leaving them to unload the weapons on their own. The less they spoke, the better. James was in such a bad mood that anyone outside even dared to say hello to the boss, they letting him go home while a path of blood followed him.
The freezing weather and torrential rain falling on his back only made the situation worse, James made a false step on the bottom step and almost slipped, he struggle to balance his boots soaked in mud on the porcelain tile of the rain-slick floor of the Whitewolf manor.
His extremely aching body made him hiss as he walked carefully to the main door, with his head pounding and screaming for a hot shower. Samuel was drinking coffee in the living room when he saw the man come in, almost choking on his drink when he saw his condition.
"No--Sam, please. Just-no" James held up his finger making Sam shut up, the man's surprise was so great that he stood with his mouth open and watching James pull the watch out of his fist and putting it on the dresser in the lobby, next to the bloody car keys and the blood-spattered boots at the side.
Moving some loose locks out of his eyes, James shrugged and waved to the employees in the hall who were wide-eyed to see the situation. Using the last strength, James marched up the stairs to his personal manor floor with a single thought in mind: taking a fucking shower.
The personal floor was still under renovation but not even the strong smell of paint and fresh cement from the new floor had bothered the man's fragile nostrils, James had a focus and with that in mind he just entered the room, left the cell phone charging and went directly to the bathroom, quickly dropping clothes soaked in blood and guts on the floor.
A guttural groan came out of James involuntarily as the hot water crept down James' back, as if they were intent on loosening the knots that had formed on his shoulders. The floor of the stall now covered in dirt and blood was playing in the man's face that the past week hadn't been generous to him.
After what seemed like hours just with his head under the heavy hot shower, James took shampoo and tossed a generous amount into his hair, sticking the fingers through his scalp and massaging it hard to clean as he always did.
