Maynard Nixon

62 - Initiative

[maynard-nixon-blog]

genghis khan || ailie & nixon

[ailiestewart]

It’s almost impossible for her to read this man at all, though she supposes that years of practise and being in this situation countless times before makes it all rather easy for him. She’d rather not think about the fate of all the others who’d sat before him and whether she’d find her way to becoming another of his victims or not. Not when there was such a need for her to stay focused and not let her fear rule her like it had so many times before.

He handles the situation with easy and the comfortable, confidant demeanour he possesses alone would usually be enough to rattle her. As it is she takes in a deep breath, trying to ignore how it shakes slightly and once again weighs up her options. Ailie supposes that cooperation, as far as possible, might be her best bet - the less reason she give them to get violent the better. But she can’t say for sure how long she’ll be able to be compliant for. So far all of the questions had been aimed at her, enough that she felt there was nothing incriminating in them.

So once more she gave him a soft answer. “Twenty six.” Though her twenty seventh birthday wasn’t that far off, a month at best, and she tried not to think about how little she’d accomplished in her life so far and how very much she was hoping that she’d live to see it.

[maynard-nixon-blog]

“Twenty six,” Nixon repeats as if he might be impressed she’s made it this long without being logged by their agents. Or perhaps he’s just shocked by her age, so young and yet such a lethal weapon. It doesn’t waver his decision on the matter of the mutant race. She might be young and beautiful. Her fear might show that she doesn’t have intentions to hurt anyone. But she will, one day, if she hasn’t already. They are too much a threat to the human race and to themselves. Extermination and confinement, those are the only answers.

He nods his head slowly, noting the quiet tone to her voice, fairly steady but her eyes betray her fear. She has every right to be terrified. It’d be foolish to put on a brave face as so many attempt. At least she isn’t unintelligent. Mason might be having to beat answers out of one of those courageous mugs right now.

So far she’s being compliant and he’d like to keep her that way. Nixon straightens his spine, leaning back upon the metal chair as he watches his target and wonders when she’ll decide to put walls back up and make her life a whole hell of a lot harder. “See,” he states calmly in his gruff voice, “Now that wasn’t so hard. It’s a lot easier to have this conversation when you’re honest with me. So, what is it that you can do, Miss Aileen?”

[maynard-nixon-blog]

genghis khan || ailie & nixon

[maynard-nixon-blog]

ailiestewart :

Though the distrust in her eyes is still lingering, Ailie can’t help but hear the truth in his words. It doesn’t take much of a jump in her logic to figure that this man is high up to be able to say such a thing with confidence. There had be be some degree of power in his hands that he would be able to have someone break bones or shed blood with just a few words from him. And that terrified her. It was the sort of power that she’d spent her whole life running from: the power to devastate without barely lifting a finger.

For a long while she forces herself to look at him as she weighs up her options. As scary as she might be, there’s no hiding the shaking of her hands, she couldn’t let her fear cloud her mind and take over like it had every other time she’d been around the Initiative before. When the Syndicate had been on the front foot it had been one thing, all it had taken was a few encouraging words from Rhys and she’d pulled through, but there was no doubt that it was her fear that had landed her here in the first place and as hard as it might be she wasn’t going to let it be the death of her.

There was a chewing of her lip, much hard than her usual habit, but the biting pain brought a little bit of sharp clarity. She was still very much clinging to the hope that the Syndicate would come for them and praying that it wouldn’t be in vain. All she had to do was make sure she survived up until that point. So with a soft yet remarkably steady voice she gave him what he wanted. “Aileen.” It felt wrong to her to give him the name everyone else called her by.

There’s fear looking back at him, even if her response is rather steady for someone in her position, voice barely trembling but the soft quality might be the reason for that. Still, the girl offers up the simple information of her name. Aileen, something very vintage about it that could almost make him smile. Some of the new recruits are always shocked by their targets’ names, something so human about Robert’s, Kelly’s, and Aileen’s. He destroys that moment of hesitation it grants his soldiers. These things are not human. They are not allies. They are dangerous threats.

“Aileen,” he repeats as though he’s committing the name to memory, but later if she becomes merely a number or another grave being dug, he won’t care at all. Perhaps he can remember all of their faces, the creatures they’ve dragged into Initiative facilities, but there’s been too many names offered in hopes of peace. Names make them human, give them lives. And nothing like a mutant should have a life.

Nixon nods his head once, fingers knitted comfortably atop the metal table separating them, allowing him to sit as the picture of serene comfort. “How old are you, Aileen?”

[maynard-nixon-blog]

Do you believe in torture as an interrogation technique?

I believe we will do what we must to get the answers we need.

[maynard-nixon-blog]

genghis khan || ailie & nixon

[ailiestewart]

There’s a demand for answers, something she knows that she’ll give her all to keep behind tight lips. The Syndicate were her family and while it might have taken her too long to fully appreciate the benefits such an organisation provided, she was going to fight with everything in her to protect them in return for al those times they’d looked after her. There were far too many people she cared about at risk her and as intimidating and terrifying as this man might be she wouldn’t bow, bend or break at his will.

Ailie soon realises that he expects honesty from her - another thing she isn’t prepared to give. Except there is one little truth that escapes her in reply to his last uttering.  “I don’t believe you.” 

Telling the truth had never been something she’d struggled with, in fact the thought of lying almost encouraged nausea in her. Perhaps that was why the words left her mouth. He’d asked for honesty and she’d provided it. Or perhaps it was just the grim realisation that there was no chance that she’d be lucky enough to escape his company with just words being exchanged between them.

[maynard-nixon-blog]

Nixon could sigh but the girl is far from frustrating. She isn’t the worst prisoner he’s had to deal with. She isn’t spitting at him, cussing him out, attempting to take his life and he always enjoyed that shocked expression on their faces when they all tried to use their power and couldn’t, because a Corinthian stood behind that glass panel to destroy their efforts. It’s always a joy to see their plans crumbles before their eyes.

“It’s true,” he states gruffly, but there’s sincerity there. If he knows just how to pry answers from the mouths of terrified mice, promotions have put him further and further away from getting his hands dirty. And while that never means that he doesn’t on occasion, because it’s something he enjoys - finding the truth, it does mean that this one might not be worth his time. She’s quiet and whether that’s because she’s fiercely loyal or just without much information he couldn’t say as of yet. She has something to hide however.

He shrugs his shoulders simply, hands folded politely atop the shiny metal table. “I probably won’t be the one to do it, but someone will make you speak,” he rationalizes, “Besides, all I’m asking for is your name.” He can already guess where she’s from by the accent.

[maynard-nixon-blog]

genghis khan || ailie & nixon

[ailiestewart]

Small spaces had never really bothered Ailie. Claustrophobia wasn’t something she could claim to have ever felt until now. But the walls seemed to press in on her, growing closer and closer and closer in her mind until they felt like they might constrict her chest. The door mocked her, knowing that she could never use it freely. She was forced to watch the realisation of all this play across her features in the two way mirror, although it didn’t take long for her to lower her eyes and focus on her hands like she had so many times before.

Her hands that could level building and split the earth. What they could do had led to her ending up here and while she was terrified she was also struck by the injustice of it all, as she had been so many times before. This wasn’t something she had chosen, a twist of fate and a change in her DNA, yet she had been manhandled here with a bag over her head.

When the man comes in she doesn’t look up until he speaks to her. There’s little doubt in her mind that this isn’t someone who will be particularly easy on her but  there’ no doubt in her mind that she’ll be the one to tell him anything. So she shakes her head as she bites her lip in an attempt to keep words spilling out. The Syndicate were her family, she wouldn’t give these men anything.

[maynard-nixon-blog]

The girl doesn’t say a word, perhaps fear choking her. Nixon could understand that even if he could not sympathize. Feeling fear is not a weakness. It’s foolish to say one is never scared at all. Maynard Nixon knew this. He knows that fear is a useful tool - to harness energy for battle, to tear down the mountains men build as walls to hide away their secrets. He knows how to prey on that. He prefers his mice to be terrified. The ones with a brave face are merely lying.

“This will be easier on you if you give me answers,” he informs her honestly, “Straight, truthful answers.” It’s a thinly-veiled warning of what would happen if she lied, if she kept words locked behind teeth. The Initiative had ways of getting what they wanted from their prisoners and this one looks too small to withstand much of their methods of extraction. Simply attacking that fear might be enough to make her crack.

Nixon hopes that’s true. It would make his job and the work of all of his inferiors much easier. “I’m just here to talk.”

[maynard-nixon-blog]

genghis khan || ailie & nixon

‘Success’ had been the word thrown around after the agents returned with men and women in custody. But one look at Mason had set the true answer into place. This raid could’ve gone better as the faces brought in for processing aren’t ones to match the sketches. None of these mutants are the ones they’ve been looking for. And while they might know something and could possibly lead a team down the right path, it isn’t the face he wants to break retribution on.

It’s a matter he’d discuss with his assigned Corinthian at a different time. Nixon would prefer to be better acquainted with his new prisoners and the small girl is the first in the tiny interrogation room. He had requested to meet with them all personally.

“You wanna give me your name,” he demands calmly, a vicious yet quiet storm as he whirls into the room and sits himself opposite of the creature. No guard beside him as he settles in front of her, the large two-way mirror behind him an imposing thing where she must know other agents are watching for any quick movements on her part. But if Mason is behind there she wouldn’t be able to do a thing, no ability to cheat with.

[ladyetherea]

The Hollywood Reporter portrait of Jonathan Banks. (Click pic for source)

[maynard-nixon-blog]

The Undertaker || griffith & nixon

[maynard-nixon-blog]

griffith-mason:

The man doesn’t offer much back, but he never does. There’s still a certainty that Nixon hears him, that every word gets filed away where he can decide if there’s anything to do about it or not. Though if he’s bothered by the ineptness shown in their own organization, he can only imagine how much it irritates the military man. Enough that he tries not to take some amusement away from it, even with the two of them standing on the same side.

“Likely to blame for the second abduction. Another man was involved in the first, but we don’t have anything on him yet.” He tries to hide any frustration, that too much time and too little action’s been taken since two men broke through the doors of an agent’s home. His widowed wife has already moved to live with a sister in Kansas, and if it’s not out of their reach it’s still an inconvenience.

“Does that mean I have the green light?” It might look bad to appear overeager, but to some degree he is. The restraint might be mostly self-inflicted, but he’s kept his hands tied since he got here, waiting for better orders and freer reign to do whatever’s necessary. His suspicions about how they got here and who else might be responsible mean little. Where he’s always excelled is that moment when he’s breaking down doors. That moment of shock and fear when open palms hold nothing but air in them instead of supernatural powers they should never have been gifted with.

And maybe it’ll never be as satisfying as that moment his ox of a brother crumpled under the weight of a police baton, but it comes as close as he can get.

There’s something organized about all of this that sits like a pit in Nixon’s stomach. He’s seen small groupings of mutants who knit together to commit criminal acts in the name of retaliation and revolution but they’re always using those words incorrectly. Perhaps it isn’t their fault that they’d been born with their DNA, but hiding away isn’t the answer. Neither is living in the light. Stepping forward, turning themselves into the Initiative, that’s the path of the brave hero which none of them ever take. In the end, every mutant is a coward that needs to be eradicated before their fear turns violent.

He isn’t concerned with bringing in innocents for questioning. If it turns out those suspects know nothing, then they’ve had one very unfortunate day. And while it’s best to avoid such mishaps, they needed to act quickly before paranoia spread and more of their bases are targeted.

“Bring in who you’re suspecting of even the slightest knowledge,” he instructs, providing Mason with a nod to show he’s cleared to do as he pleases. Some soldiers are better kept leashed, but this one is different. A Corinthian is better when it can jump straight into the heart of Hell, because the fires can’t touch it.

There’s a stipulation to his clearance however. “Get what you can out of them,” he states to the closed, tinted window, watching the heat pass by as they clear the traffic of LAX, “I want to speak to anyone worth speaking to.” Mason’s a good judge. He’ll know who is worth the time.

[maynard-nixon-blog]

The Undertaker || griffith & nixon

[maynard-nixon-blog]

griffith-mason:

“Yes, sir.” There’s a nod of his head, orders given and accepted like gospel. If they only have the one target, it might be all it takes to track her to the rest, and there’s no question that there are more. Embedded in this city like rats, hidden in every dark alley and gutter.

“Suspicions, nothing solid.” He doubts it’s the answer Nixon wants, because it’s not the one he wants to give. The closest to blatant was the panic of one girl at a bar who bolted a little too quickly from his presence. But however bad it looks on paper, he’s a creature of instinct. Raised by mutants, paranoia keeping his eyes peeled for every tic that swears a person might be lying about their own nature. It’s enough for him, and if he doesn’t truly doubt it’ll be enough for Nixon, he wants the words first. “Give me the go ahead and I’ll start bringing people in.”

But if he doesn’t have more names or faces to offer, there’s a definitive sequence of events that got missed here. Whether it means anything or not, he offers it up to Nixon all the same. If he won’t swear blind allegiance to everyone in the Initiative, the man’s intelligent and dedicated enough to have earned his loyalty. And if there’s anything worth noting here he thinks he’ll see it. “Here’s the thing. I’ve been looking at all the files, and I think there were plenty of warning signs that this was coming, Crawford just didn’t know what he was looking at.”

He doesn’t wait for permission to recount the incidents he’s talking about, unconcerned about what light that paints Martin Crawford in. The director of the California division, and all of this was overlooked. “End of February, an agent disappears. Taken right from his home by two unidentified assailants. A few weeks later, our mainframe’s broken into. Definite involvement from an umbrakinetic. A few weeks after that, another agent gets pulled from his home.”

What happens next, they all already know. Buildings destroyed, massive death toll. Because no one here had been keeping the mutant population in check. “There was an obvious escalation here.”

The car rattles on, passing the slow traffic of the LAX incoming terminals where mothers embrace their sons and spouses pile luggage and children into one small vehicle. The life of the human race continues on normally, sky clear of any black smoke this time around, just the heavy, yellow smog that always threatens to engulf the city of angels. This is what they’re working for, so innocent lives can continue on in daily, mundane routines, unaware of the threat lurking just under their noses. It’s only a matter of time before more mutants arm themselves in orderly lines, before they turn their attention away from the Initiative and begin attacking men and women simply providing for families. The problem needed to be eradicated.

Today, Griffith Mason is the best agent for the job and Maynard’s almost relieved that he’d been chosen for the task. He’d always been a soldier to go above and beyond the call of duty. Perhaps it’s always been personal for him, every mutant filth black-bagged just another strike against his family. It means it would take a great deal to doubt his loyalty to the Initiative’s cause. He hastily overturned his own flesh to them. Of course, they hadn’t been of the same blood. Mason’s blood isn’t mutated. He’s one of the good ones.

Listening to the list the soldier provides, Maynard nods along with his points. He’d only recently been handed a file on the happenings in Los Angeles and there’d been a swell of frustration burning in his chest at the work done in the city prior. It looked sloppy, handled poorly and he wonders how much of this mess could’ve been avoided if Martin Crawford had done a more thorough job. Mutants should be petrified to walk these streets but perhaps ever gang here now is simply run by one those bastards.

“Any idea on if the two who abducted our agent are the two sketches?”

[maynard-nixon-blog]

The Undertaker || griffith & nixon

[griffith-mason-blog]

The heat of Los Angeles seems more oppressive when he’s acting as something closer to a guard dog than one on the hunt. He waits by a black car for a man who holds a higher rank than he does, even if he wonders where they’d fall on the scale of importance. The Initiative’s poured enough funding, research, and training into him to make him one of the most valuable assets they have, but Maynard Dixon has been a soldier for longer than he’s been alive.

It ensures a straighter spine when the man stops in front of him, a certain level of professionalism and a simple nod serving as a greeting. It’s hard not to feel like he should salute too. “Sir.”

He tugs the back door of a black sedan open for him, and the brusque question doesn’t surprise him. There’s no reason for the man to hesitate when there’s still ash in the Los Angeles skyline from the damage done to them. Weapons and men lost, casualties littering the streets in higher numbers than should ever be acceptable. “Less than I’d like to report.” If he hates that subtle feeling of inadequacy, he does his best to shove it down. “I dropped numbers at a couple of places, some bars, some coffee shops, nothing but drunks calling in yet.”

That t least isn’t enough to bank anything on, and he doesn’t allow for disappointment when his hands aren’t completely empty. He takes the other half of the backseat, files readied to hand over to the man because by now he knows how he works. A car ride filled with idle conversation is a waste of time, and if his memory’s good he can’t claim every detail committed to memory. “We have two solid leads, one man and one woman. We don’t have much on him yet, just some partial prints that I’ve got a tech running through our database. If there’s any record of him we’ll find it.”

The best news he saved, a file accompanying the brief explanation he gives. The regen. It won’t save her when he catches up. “The woman is Naomi Carson. Used to be in one of our facilities, until she was broken out a few years ago. I’m having files pulled on any possible suspects that were involved in the initial staging, or who might’ve escaped with her. Got an address for her, but no one was home even if it was the right one. The local PD are keeping an eye on it.”

[maynard-nixon-blog]

He doesn’t appreciate bullshit, the small talk offered to make simple friends. The west coast isn’t his place for civility and conversation. Maynard Dixon didn’t arrived in the smoggy filth and the heavy sun to seek inaccessible dreams in the city of stars. He’s here to do a job, to complete a mission. And he isn’t leaving until he has those responsible for the destroyed arsenal and the stolen lives in custody. Black-bagged, screaming out answers to their questions until they’ve taken out a whole faction. And then destroyed, locked away until they rot. And if some may argue they never asked for their DNA, he still believes the responsible thing to do would’ve been to turn themselves in to keep their neighbors safe. But the human race is inherently selfish.

Sliding into the back seat of the shiny, black sedan, Maynard’s only gratitude offered for the open door is a quick, firm nod of his head. The driver is given the same gesture as a greeting from the man of few words and his attention is quickly drawn to files handed over. It’s less than he was hoping for. At this point, he’d like to have the bastards in custody, providing new information they can go on as to who this faction of mutants and perhaps sympathizers are.

But at least there is something, words on a piece of paper. And while there isn’t much on the male sketch, the female has a lot more to offer and he’s proud of Mason for those findings.

“Naomi Carson,” he states slowly, the word feeling like a bitter pill on his tongue that’s difficult to swallow. It’s the name of a terrorist.

Maynard nods. “I want more surveillance on her. Find out where she works or her last place of employment. She’ll lead us straight to the other, even if we have to break her for it.”

But that’s in the future and he couldn’t focus on the how they’d tear information from her teeth with pliers until they had her in custody. That would take some time.

“Any other mutant activity you’ve encountered?”

[maynard-nixon-blog]

The Undertaker || griffith & nixon

Los Angeles is a filthy place. Full of filthy people. It’s a swamp in dry heat, collecting the scum of the United States all in one place. Any moment spent in LA sun is too long for Nixon’s liking. But he had a job to do and turning down a mission has never been something he’s been prone to do. He wouldn’t be where he is today if such a sloven mentality resided in his skull. Lazy had never been a term to describe him and he wouldn’t start now in his old age.

One agent had been assigned to greet him at the airport. And if Nixon has always been a fully capable soldier, he knows the suggestion of a Corinthian by his side is a safety precaution. Their super soldiers could be the difference between life and death when facing a mutant. More importantly, it could also mean an easier capture of their target, or just a mutated death on their hands, which still doesn’t sound like the worst case scenario to his own ears. The worst would be letting it go and that’s not something he ever plans to do.

“Mason,” he states in short greeting to the agent before him, accustomed to last names used as a calling card but also familiar with this face. He’d sent Mason on numerous scouting missions and he’d quickly become one of the first names pulled for anything Nixon had for him. He’s a capable soldier. “You better have good news.”