Greta did not hear a sound as Krammer seemingly appeared in her room. His gleam was evilly on Greta, a traitor and a double cross who must be punished significantly. He took out his weapon a pistol with a silencer on it and sent a bullet neatly into the head of John O’Shea. Greta did not stir and Krammer wanted it that way. His eyes set upon Greta, a fine thing of beauty and spunk, he had utterly tamed her and that was a mark of pride of him. He walked towards the side of the bed, knelt by it and whispered in Greta’s ear.

Slowly, her eyes opened and she eventually realized that Krammer was standing above her. Almost mechanically Greta tried to scream but Krammer clamped a hand tightly over her mouth and forced, with his brute strength, her body down on the bed.

“Don’t struggle,” Krammer soothed, smiling deviously at how his voice almost controlled Greta by itself. Greta was still, but her eyes were darting around in anger, had John broken his promise? “The man in your room is dead. I didn’t want him to get in the way when I punished you. You’ve been a busy little bee, Greta. Very ungrateful to me.”

Greta showed no fear against his taunts though she knew her fate would not end well. Krammer took his hand from her mouth, which was held in a gasp of surprise and then raised that hand to strike her cheek harshly when she attempted to sit up.

“Did I say you could move?”Krammer asked Greta, whose body had collapsed back down from the delivered blow. He saw a tear in Greta’s eye, and his grin increased. “That’s a good girl,” he said, smoothing the hair that had been roughed in her sleep.

“Why are you afraid? I won’t give serious harm to you? You are still going to the Russian, I haven’t forgotten about that.” He said and examined the cheek that he had not seriously bruised.

“Now sleep my child.” Krammer said as he brought a cloth out with Chloroform on it and placed it over Greta’s mouth. She drifted into a dreamless sleep and Krammer carried her out, unnoticed toward the room his girlfriend had reserved.