A new hostage

"I already answered your question." James said, really angry. "I don't have to waste my time doing so again."

James was kicked in the jaw, and it almost felt like it was broken. He coughed up some more blood and said "I'll consider this: I'll consider not joining you and I'll also consider killing you if possible." He hung his head low, and he had just realised that he was puffing, out of breath. He then had a thought that he was dying, but he was not afraid. "I'd rather be tortured to death than join your league of killers, you monster!"

James fell to the floor, weak and powerless. He lay there, thinking that there's nothing he can do now except wait to die. And since he cannot use his powers in this room, he could not travel back to change the outcome. James was afraid for the first time in his life. He knew there was no hope of anyone rescuing him. He had lost hope of escaping... of killing the frenchman not only to save the school, but for revenge... of ever saving the survivors... he had lost all hope. Until...

He noticed a bag, laying at the corner of the room. James struggled to get up on his feet, and staggered bleeding pratically to death towards it. He collapsed and was forced to crawl with his remaining hand. After several minutes, he finally reached the bag. He opened it and looked at the contents: four familliar weapons: his two swords and his two guns. The frenchman wouldn't be stupid to leave them behind... unless he wanted James to find them. Then, James, with the help of one of his swords, got up to his feet, and staggered towards the door. He knew it was locked, but that wouldn't bother him for much longer. He shot the door with four bullets, each representing a corner of a rough square. He then peirced his sword through one of the holes, and sliced the door until it reached another bullet hole. He repeated this operation three more times, and a hole was created, large enough for James to fit in. He collapsed to the other side of the door, and looked around, his vision becoming dark and blurry. At least he was out of the room. He reloaded his guns just in case, and crawled at a random direction down the corridor. He was searching for stairs.

James saw three men at the other end of the corridor, one of them being the frenchman. He immediately turned back: he was too weak to fight, but then again, he was too weak to run as well. He saw an open window. If he had enough strength, he could jump out and survive. Well, he had to risk it. He opened the window wider, and climbed out slowly, still in pain. He hung from the ledge, three floors above the ground. He let go of the ledge, and landed on his feet on the ledge below. He repeated these steps until he was on the ground, where at that point he collapsed. He shouted weakly "Help." He had never wanted to do this, but now was a desperate time.

James tried to speak, but he was too weak to even do that. He couldn't even keep his eyes open. He only saw a blur, something flying... and talking.