missing marks -- grim maxwell

[swing]

Case file # 324.4546.76455.32

The documents found in this file are strictly confidential and only from briefing use in the Central Intelligence Agency. Any disclosure or reproduction of aforementioned documentation is strictly prohibited and will be punishable by section 423-82 under the laws of Bureau investigation.

<center>GRIM STEWART MAXWELL</center>






aliases: Jonathan Pryer, Tavel Milosovich, Jay Gauvarra.

<center>DESCRIPTION</center>
Date of Birth Used: 11/11/1970
Place of birth: London,England.
Citizenship: English.
Hair: Blonde.
Eyes: Blue. Height:6'0" Sex: M.
Weight:147lbs. Complexion: Fair to Normal.
Build: Slim.
Languages: Russian, German, Malaysian,
Sanskrit, Italian, Japanese, Spanish, French
Scars and marks: Cigarette burn in the center of left palm, lacerations along spinal column (***See file 47632.23DF ***)
Remarks": N/A
<center>FAMILY HISTORY</center>

Parents: Landon and Katheryn Maxwell.(both deceased)
Siblings: Keith (deceased), Kiajara (deceased), Alana (deceased)
Marital Status: Widowed.
Spouse: Helana Dimitriv
D.O.B: October 13, 1970. (deceased January 14, 1998.)
Cause of death: Murder by his own gun.
Children: n/a
D.O.B: n/a
<center>CAUTION</center>

Incarceration for four years after the death of a Russian diplomat. Murder of wife. Murder of many field agents. Prefers slow torture. Weapons include: Beretta, Deagle, 9 mm, and a butterfly switchblade. Due to extensive psychological trauma, Grim is to be regarded as a hostile at all times.

*** END OF FILE ***

[swing]

The India fiasco was another notch on the tree limb that branched between Julia and himself. A dapper concoction of water color bruises on swollen skin wasn't hid to the general public. A nearly broken nose and busted lip held deep gashes that threatened to break open when he smiled. Bloody knuckles were covered with leather gloves that passed the ticket to the boarding attendant, briefcase was sent through the X-ray machine and he was boarding the plane from New Delhi to London's more moderate climate--earthen streets would be replaced by cobblestone and his breath would hang in the air like a reaper's scythe...Yes, he needed to go home.

Home, in London was an apartment with a back garden that never flourish more than three ripe tomatoes a year and housed nothing more than simple living for two--at the current time, there was only one.

"You look like hell."

"Mmn."

Grim faced the window peeling an orange with a steak knife, but he could see her dusky reflection in the pane of glass that separated him from the London air that his lungs so craved to inhale until they collapsed.

"Rough time in India?"

She came to wrap her arms around his waist and set a chin on his shoulder, which caused him to pause in his actions, leaving the orange half peeled.

"I lost your Christmas present, Emily."

"How? You'd better go back and get it then."

"She was there."

Emily retracted from him to rest palms on the sink. She. The infamous Julia that seemed to be the main focus of the man she spent her days with, of course she would be there...To ruin the slight normalcy that she had worked so hard to achieve.

"And?"

"And..?"

He went back to peeling the orange and avoiding eye contact with the woman, who always seemed to have a bit of a jealous streak. Really and truly, he was more hungry for citrus salt in the wound than to have this conversation with her.

"And.. Did you kill her?"

"No."

The automatic response caused her to raise her hands to send them slamming down on the sink's lip. She laughed, but there was no mirth in it and shook her head.

"Of course you didn't. You wouldn't would you? You don't have the fortitude to kill her. Christ Grim.."
He was silent and continued to peel the orange.

"I don't know why you don't just get rid of her...I don't suppose you came back with the documents either, did you?"

"No."

The smooth removal of the peel was almost completed, and she was shaking her head at him again.

"What worth are you to this organization when all you're doing is chasing after some skirt? That's really what this whole thing is about, isn't it? You can't be in the intelligence agency so y--"

The fruit left his hand as he staked her to the wall with a forearm and pressed the citrus stained blade into the dark flesh of her neck. His mouth was set next to her ear so that she could feel that the warmth of his words were only coming from the oxygen expelled from his lungs in a whisper.

"If you question my reasoning again, Emilia, I will not hesitate to deepen the wound."

When he removed himself from her, she pressed a hand to her neck where a superficial laceration had been made--just enough to break the skin. She stared after him as he plucked the orange from the counter and went out into the garden.

[swing]

Chengdu, China-1998.

A night club blared music as singing Chinese school girls spun around on stages infront of old men with fat cigars hanging out of their mouths--the smoke and music alike was unbearable to him, but he wasn't here for the entertainment. He was here to negotiate. An American--that's what they pegged him for, because he was blonde haired and blue eyed in a sea of China dolls and new year's dragons, making his way through the muddled crowd of business men and trying his best not to shoot the whining girls on stage who were smiling wide and crooking fingers at the voyeurs. Words were exchanged between him and a guard, before he gained access to the stairwell that led to Mr. Lao.

As he suspected, the room was littered with drug-happy women and cigar smoking friends, the second series of guards patted him down before letting him approach the table where the middle aged man sat, taking short drags off of an Opium pipe.

"Ahhh... Mr. Maxwell, how good of you to join us. Come. Come, sit."

Waving a hand and motioning for him to take a seat in front of the Desk. Grim merely folded his hands behind his back and straightened.

"I'd rather not, Mr. Lao."

The man chuckled in between puffs of smoke.

"I notice you are not carrying a briefcase, I am not in possession of an off-shore account so I am assuming you are here to negotiate, yes?"

"No. There will be no negotiation, Mr. Lao."

"Then your wife will die."

Grim said nothing further, clenching his jaw and keeping the regal posture that welded his spine together. Mr. Lao grinned him and rose to cross over and clasp the man on the shoulder.

"I think you should reconsider my offer. The price is reasonable."

"Ten million for a Russian woman is quite irrational."

The last word out of his mouth was aimed sharply at the fingers which touched him, but he made no movement.

"She is an ambassador. Do you think I am a fool?"

Silence was a golden rule and Grim was choosing to follow it at the moment. Which only made Mr. Lao's hand grip harder into his shoulder.

"Take my offer, or I will kill you."

Grim grabbed the man's hand by the wrist and wrenched it off of his shoulder, applying pressure to a key area so that Mr. Lao would fall to his knees.

"Not if I kill you first."

Threats were met with the barrel of a gun to the base of his skull, to which, Grim immediately let go of Mr. Lao's hand so that they might be held behind his back. The other man rose again and swiftly sent the back of hand to greet Grim's arrogant jaw-line.

"Take him downstairs to see her, then get rid of them both."

A gun was placed into the center of his spine as two men escorted him out; he was again assaulted by the schoolgirl dancers and cigar smoke on his way out towards the basement stairs--where, he was promptly flung. Things were mumbled between the two in Chinese, snickering as he picked himself off of the floor. The blood that spilt from his eyebrow was shading a carmine line in the crease of his left eye and fissures were felt in his cheekbone, rubbing his jaw and promptly cracking it back into place, he was grabbed again and flung into a few walls before he was thrown into the room that held his battered wife.

Her mouth was taped shut and her hands were bound to her feet so that she couldn't stand, as soon as she saw him she screamed muffled words into the tape. He, on the other hand, said nothing. The hilt of a gun was whipped into the back of his knees which sent him to kneel execution style. Helena screamed again and tried desperately to side-wind her way towards him.

"Say goodbye to her, asshole."

The gun struck the side of his face, knocking him sideways.

"Let her stand."

"No. Just say goodbye so we can get this over with my b--"

The door swung open and Mr. Lao came barging in.

"Tao-sung, give me your gun and wait outside. Lee, do what he asked and Grim? Get on your feet."
Everyone went about their tasks; Grim rose as did Helena. Lee returned to Mr. Lao's side and awaited further instruction.

"Tell her you love her, before I put the bullet in her head."

Grim was still, fingers itching--tapping out some unknown rhythm, or was he counting seconds?

"Do wh--"

Seconds. No time to finish the sentence, because Grim noosed Mr. Lao with an arm and sent the bullet meant for Helena into Lee's stomach, turning the gun then on Helena, where he sent two deep into her chest before finally splicing Mr. Lao's vision with his own gun, which was pulled from the small of his back. The door was being opened and shots were being fired--though not by Grim's gun.

"Welcome to the Order Mr. Maxwell, you will learn to respect my rules."

[swing]

Part II.

The floor was damp--a dry paste that seemed to swelter with his breath and yet still coat his lungs. A sidewinder serpent, with a hip and shoulder gouging into the earth as his support--no lights and when the light did come it blinded paling irises with slivers. This white light that washed over him now was only blocked partially by a slender man.

"Good morning."

Wrists were raw from the special rope they'd bound him with, an agent laced the twines to that if he resisted, his skin would burn against it. He was now being plucked from the dark to stumble into the light. Starved in a garden of delicacies he was shuffled past men in a camp in the dead of China's winter. His veins were threatening to burst from the shards of frozen cells that scraped against them. His teeth chattered despite his dislocated jaw; brought before the table, his knees were kicked out forcing him to kneel but is head did not bow.

"It is customary, Mr. Maxwell, in my country to bow your head out of respect."

A thin man brought a steaming cup of tea to his mouth after words were spoken. He didn't expect a reply, that was all part of the enjoyment of speaking. Grim didn't move, just kept gaping eyes blinking to try and get used to the light.

"You have complied with my demands in the past, but why not this? You would rather kill your own wife than do as I asked. I find that very interesting."

Grim tried to form words but his jaw just wouldn't connect for syllable formation. The man behind the table straightened his sleeves before standing and walking over so that he could rest a hand on his shoulder.

"You will comply, Mr. Maxwell. I will break you."

Something mumbled in Chinese to the men standing behind him and Grim was being hauled off to the infirmary so that they could take care of his wounds....And inflict new ones.

[swing]

"I grow tired of this game we play.."

The thin man was being pampered by two women while he spoke of being weary. Grim just looked at his watch (a new acquired item) and then back to him.

"Well, Mr. Ling you are wasting my time with this speech."

The man jolted from his position to stare and point a finger at him.

"You waste my time and my assets. Was there a reason to kill part of your own team? No. You constantly find ways to under--"

"I wouldn't be so quick to finish that sentence if I were you."

Grim smirked--a terrible habit that he seemed to have whenever he was baiting someone.

"And why is that?"

"Your negotiator was cooperating with the CIA."

"How so.."

"Put the knife down that you're planning on slicing me open with and we'll talk about it."

The thin man scowled and threw the knife down, it was Grim's signal to continue speaking.

"She's been leaking intel to the United States for three months. I didn't have the proof until India."

"What happened in India?"

"Julia happened."

"Julia...I told you to kill her."

A simple statement from the man. He had told Grim to rid the Order of that problem for quite some time and yet? His efforts were to no avail.

"Your mistakes are not mine to correct, Mr. Ling."

"You seem to do a good job of correcting them, however."

"I do what I'm asked to, but killing her would be a mistake."

"I don't have time for your foolish lovesick yearning."

Grim straightened and cinched his jaw against actions which were making his fingers twitch.

"She is an asset not a hindrance. You know that, or else..."

"Can you finish that statement if I've taken your tongue?"

"Touche."

The silence between the two was thick enough to compress lungs, a stand still because either of the men knew they would not hesitate to kill the other.

"She knows the shipment coordinates for the plans enlisted in this document. I suggest that you change them. "

Grim reached into his coat pocket and produced a packet of folded white paper.

"What..guarantee do I have that you're not lying."

"Check your Moscow associates."

Later that day.

He was waiting for the cellular phone call in a coffee shop where he could watch the people dine across the street, but what he didn't expect was the woman to sit down across from him.

"I have a gun aimed at your stomach, if you don't give me the answers I'm looking for, I'll kill you."

"Sophrina, are you always this aggressive on the first date?"

"Tempt me and I won't hesitate."

"I don't know why Ling would send his daughter on such an important business venture, unless he's afraid of static....Perhaps I was right then?"

"Pay your check, Maxwell. I don't want to have to come inside again."

Grim did as he was told and walked out after the woman, who was turning into an alley.

"Why can't we just hold a nor--"

He was cut off by the hilt of a gun to his face, which re-formed the slowly fading bruises and split open his mouth.

"You told her about Moscow. Don't bullshit me."

Grim re-situated his jaw and swiped a thumb underneath his mouth to smear the carmine that had started in a small ribbon.

"I didn't tell her about anything."

"How did Emily get to her apartment then? Don't you think it's a little convenient?"

He started to say something but she slapped him again on the other side, just to make sure he matched.
"You're obviously not thinking."

"You can't touch me, Grim. You know that."

So, this was why he sent her, as a test of patience and loyalty. A woman that he couldn't wound due to her ties to the father--but he highly misjudged him. A lunge at her and palms staked her to the wall.

"I am finished playing games with you. Tell your father to switch, or see what happens to the rest of his investments. Only I doubt they will all be mysterious sinking ships, will they?"

A firmly planted kiss on the woman's mouth before he bit down hard on her lip and then spattered her with a mix of their blood and saliva.

"Next time you hit me, I won't be such a gentleman."

[swing]

Ring a ring of roses.

The wrought iron gate in London kept the children safe from the commoner's traffic of cars and people alike. A small fast moving current of children chased after a ball, while some sang rhymes and spun in clasp-hand circles, still others drew out hopscotch outlines to throw stones across. Amidst it all, the golden haired boy was laughing and chasing after his sister, who had set a crown of dandelions upon his head.

Pocket full of posies.

A gray day, like all London weather--the asphalt still clung to the early morning's rain when polished shoes slapped against it. The two sharply dressed officers were moving fluidly around the laughing children towards the school teacher, who was ironing out the pleats in her pastel floral arrangement of a skirt. The men removed their caps before they spoke words that the children didn't care to hear or take note of in their quest for happiness.

Ashes. Ashes.

The little blonde boy was laughing as he spun his sister in a circle, the crown had fallen onto the pavement and spattered yellow pollen along the water soaked edges of tar black. The school teacher blew the whistle as the two men departed in assimilating and mechanical fashion. The boy turned his head to watch them leave, losing the grip on his sister's hand, but the school teacher put a firm hand on his shoulder and ushered him inside.

We all fall down.

"Grim. Alana. There has been an accident." Words that filtered off the teacher's nervous tongue were administered to the two sets of identical eyes that stared widely at the glare of the cat's eye glasses that obscured her nervousness. "Your parents and brother are..." The little boy ran down the hallway screaming, eyes flooding with hot saline that wouldn't stop no matter how many times his palms crashed into them.

That memory faded along with the cup of coffee until only a swallow remained to stain the cracks in the glazed porcelain of the mug. His thumbs were the only thing that held the picture steady, so that he finish didn't glare against the fluorescent lighting of the diner that he had been sitting in for the past three hours.

"She's a beautiful girl."

The voice came from over his shoulder--a woman with coal black hair that refilled his cup after she'd spoken to him.

"Yes. She takes after her mother."

Shaken. Rattled from reverie and left with a faltering smile when he shifted his eyes from the picture to the woman who smiled at him and rested the free hand on her hip.

"Does she have a name?"

"Her name is Kate."

"Kate...That's a really nice name, mister."

"Indeed it is."

The same faltering smile was given to the woman as she patted him on the shoulder and walked away to set the coffee pot back in its place. He turned his eyes back to the picture and sat in silence for a moment.

"Soon.. Soon, she'll be able to say the same with you smiling next to her."

[swing]

[1983.]

"You are completely relaxed...."

The boy's steady rise and fall of shallow breath were the only indication that he was asleep.

"I want you to remember what happened to you a year ago, Grim. I want you to count backwards from ten."

"Ten....Nine...."

Shaky numbers were rattled out of his mouth with the same shallow quiet breath.

"That's it Grim, you're almost there."

"Three....Two....One...."

Three days after Kiajara's final Epileptic fit (the one that sent her from her cradle to her casket.) left the twelve year old twins in the antique London sun room of their great aunt. Light poured from the window and glinted off the small China tea cups that sat on the mahogany coffee table in the center of the room.

The boy was coloring pictures of Jesus on the carpet so that the shading of his purple robe was stippled and disjointed at best. The blonde haired girl turned the key of the small music box that rested on the small table draped in a stark white doily. The boy looked up to see the girl standing in front of the window.

"I always loved this."

Words that left the boy's mouth for the man in the white labcoat were mouthed from his sister's lips on the backs of his eyelids.

"I know. You used to make mother turn it before bed."

The boy was rising, dropping the Crayola crayons from his hands to stand next to the girl in front of the window which made them both look overexposed in the light of the sun.

"I wanted to be the ballerina."

She smoothed down the front of her powder blue dress, the apron pockets loaded down with trinkets she had brought out to play with. She stepped past him and climbed upon the old Victorian style chair, her feet dangling high about the carpet. The boy sank hands deep into the pockets of his navy blue slacks and followed her, standing before her like a knight before his child queen.

"Why? She only dances under glass, Alana."

The boy ripped his head to inquire of his sister as he knelt to pick up the crayons he'd left laying.

"Not always, grim. Sometimes you can break it."

The music was slowly dying out as he rose again, smoothing out the scarlet wool of his sweater.

"I don't think mother would like it very much if you did."

The girl slid her hands into the pockets of her apron, her head dipped in concentration.

"Mother isn't her to tell me not to, is she?"

The revolver was heavy in her hands, it wavered in her tiny palm when she turned the barrel to face the boy who paled and froze in his stance. The girl's face was suddenly tear stained and angry.

"Is she?"

Those words were screamed from a small throat before the silver barrel was shifted to kiss her temple. He watched her finger contract the trigger and the hammer click. For a moment, all he saw were the wide eyes before the sound of a ricocheting bullet deafened his ears. Blood spattered against the white walls with their ivy borders like and ocean spray across a shore. Three years of aching finished itself when her hand fell from its position, dangling the gun in her lap. It was in that moment when Grim found her the most beautiful. He climbed up next to her stiffening corpse and took the gun from her hand.

"When I clap my hands you will be completely awake."

"I am already awake."

[swing]

"So...What happened this time?"

"I fell on the ice."

"Really? That's why you have glass in your hand Grim? I didn't know ice could turn into glass now."

"Shut up David a-"

Grim grumbled as the man purposefully tilted the tweezers to grate his skin as he pulled out shards.

"Oh, please Grim. I'm not afraid of you. Remember your hand is in my care."

Grim just gritted his teeth and allowed the man to finish and then threading the needle for stitches.

"Yes and my other hand is not."

"You're a poor shot with your right."

The string was tugged taut through skin to emphasize that point as the other man bent his head in concentration.

"Did she--"

"No."

"I was going to say, you don't look like shit."

"You will soon enough."

"Again with the threats! Really, you need to work on your people skills."

"I don't need people skills in my line of work."

"You deal with people, I think you need them."

"No."

"You are mr. grumpypants today. She must've really struck a nerve."

"Who said I saw her."

"C'mon, it's in your eyes."

"What is in my eyes, David."

"The light.. The heat."

"One more word and I'll put a bullet in your skull."

"Alright, alright, geez. Kill someone for havin' a sense of humor. It wouldn't hurt you, you know."

"What wouldn't?"

"To act like a normal human being for once in your life."

That was the second person in one day that made his hangover headache worse with the exact same phrase.

[swing]

The paper had been splayed out along his table, an article was neatly removed and placed beside the small Plexiglas container that held the shards from his hand. The black book on the edge of the table was slid over so that he could paste the article onto one of the few remaining pages. Ten years worth of compiling information made the book more like a volume than anything else. The picture that was given to him as a reminder was then put into a little frame by wounded hands. He stared at everything in front of him for a long moment--these were the things that bordered on obsession.

He brought himself out of his reverie and picked up the things on the table, walking towards a room that was left cracked open. Inside were all of the things that related to his job, a double-sided padlock was put on the door to prevent any prying eyes from seeing in or out. The table, was originally an elaborate vanity table, that was pasted over with various pictures--though, all of the same blonde woman. Her background file was decoupaged in the center off all of the madness, while small frames held important things--the picture of her daughter was set right next to the picture of the woman and her daughter, which was also in a frame. The glass in the small plastic box was set next to the other boxes containing trivial things such as blood spattered dirt and a molar.

The other side of the table held little trinkets, like a rhinestone from some bracelet, a swatch of fabric still stained in blood and perfume, along with a bullet that never made it through anyone's skin. The book however, was placed in the center of the table gently, his fingers still brushing over the cover before he walked across the room towards his wardrobe to discharge his guns and put them away. The door was left half cracked when he left to turn in for the night.

They were both wrong. He was plenty human, when the door could be locked.

[swing]

These were the times when he was most innocent (and wholly human)--wrapped in a knitted afghan of seventies burgundy and black spooled yarn, Grim lay sleeping upon the silent leather of his couch. The blinds to this room were held at a permanent half-mast and so it was no wonder that when the light finally pierced through transparent lids his first reaction was one of an incoherent murmur.

"Mergh."

Like a child, wiry limbs splayed fingers that clutched at the knitted blanket and promptly threw it over his head. Though the web spun thing did nothing to hide him from the sun, which due to alcohol, was positively blinding. A grumble or two more erupted from the confines of a groggy throat before he eventually threw the blanket onto the floor and arched himself off of the couch--where not only the floor, but the realization that Julia had spent the night hit him all at once.

The second thing to hit him was the scent of Cappuccino--that was completely wrong. He pulled himself off of the floor and took careful paces towards his bedroom, which had been vacated with nothing more than tousled sheets, he expected as much. What he didn't expect was the noise in the kitchen and a murmur that had no feminine quality to it at all. A sharp twist of his head towards the door as he yanked the top drawer of a black dresser ajar just far enough to remove a gun.

The walk back down the corridor was one of silence and briskness, upon turning the corner with a sharp shoulder to the left, the gun was centered between two murky hazel eyes and the safety was flicked off with a brittle thumb.

"Christ almighty, calm down!"

Both trembling hands rose as the man stepped backwards, causing the cup to fall from his hand onto hardwood flooring, creating a series of steaming swirls in a caramel color. The gun, however, didn't move from its position as Grim looked rather unamused and unfocused with rapid blinks.

"How did you get in?"

"Y-your door was unlocked! Say, can we talk about this without your finger on the trigger of that gun please?"

Normally, Grim would've shot a round into the ceiling and then repositioned it, but his floor was already sullied with a liquid. So, with heavy sigh the gun was secured at the hilt of his spine as fingers rose to pinch the bridge of his nose. Only one word came from him:

"Julia."

"Whoa, hey now, I wasn--"

"David, the safety's still off."

"Oh, right.. Well, as you can see I b--"

"Do you always waltz into people's apartments uninvited."

"Well no, but I tried the knob and i--"

Grim just held up a hand and stepped over the mess into the kitchen. David, of course followed after making the sign of the cross in the air.

"I was comin' to take a look at your hand and ask you about something."

Grim plucked the roll of paper towels from the counter and shoved them at David.

"Ask me after you've cleaned your mess up."

David meekly took the paper towels, mumbled something about being a doctor not a manservant and did as he was told, Grim on the other hand was preparing a pot of Hawaiian blended coffee and silently making a notation not to drink so much on holidays. Eventually David came back holding both the roll and soiled towels, to which Grim snatched both out of his hands.

"So, what I was going to ask you..."

Grim took David's coat from its rumpled post on his table and moved out of the kitchen. Which left David completely perplexed.

"Wh--Where are you goin' I haven't even asked you yet!"

He followed him out to where Grim stopped and turned, shoving the coat into the other man's chest.

"Out."

"But I--"

"Out. Now."

"Grim you are so irr-"

The gun's place at Grim's spine was lost as it was now aimed at the mouth that had just stopped moving.
"ational. I swear.."

David grumbled all the way to the door where he was promptly shut and locked out. That only gave him more confidence to shout the last of his berating comments.

"NO WONDER SHE DOESN'T LIKE YOU. YOU'RE A DICK IN THE MORNING!"

David ran as fast as he could after he shouted at the heavy door which was being unlocked at around the word "she."