1529 words of Eye for detail.

Spoiler: Eye for detail, part two
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The guy hadn’t even looked away from the computer screen, and as Grim watched he ajusted his designer glasses and returned to tapping keys on the keyboard.
After a few seconds, Grim cleared his throat.
The man swore under his breath turned away from the computer. When he saw Grim his expression went from annoyance to surprise, to fear.
“You aren’t from the cleaning service.” He said, voice shaky.
“What gave it away?” Grim peered down his shaggy old coat, then back up at the man.
“Who are you?” Beads of sweat formed visibly on the man’s forehead as he asked the question.
“I am the collecter.” Grim answered calmly. “I am here for my due.”
“What?” The man asked, his voice cracking with fear.
“You have something of mine.” Grim stepped forward. “Give it back!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” The man whined.
“You are Frank Robinson?” Grim insisted.
“Y-yes.” The other man stammered. “But I don’t have anything…”
Grim took two quick steps forward and slammed an open palm onto the desk. The man jumped in pure fright, and made a whimpering sound.
With a slow, deliberate movement Grim lifted his hand and revealed the business card. He stared down Frank with all the intensity his lone eye had to bring. Judging on Franks facial expression, one eye was plenty to make him wet his pants.
“You know who I am.” He intoned, his voice sounded hollow and portentious, even to himself. “Don’t you?”
“He told me you would come.” Frank admitted. “Sooner or later, he said, you would be here.”
“Who?” Grimm asked puzzled.
“The man with the false eye.” Frank explained. “He never told me his name.”
That stopped Grimm dead in his tracks. He’d thought he had found the man he was looking for, the one who owed him, his prey.
He looked down at the business card, and felt the vision coming on imedeately.

The eye stared at him unblinking.
With a morbid fascination he raised it and gave it a closer look. His own eye, resting in his hand. The other eye seeing like it had alway been his. Seing so much more than the one in his palm ever had.
He got to his feet, a little unsteadily. A coulple of wobly steps took him to the only table in the room. He gently put down his old eye on the flat surface. It glared at him, maybe in anger, or regret. Or maybe he was attributing feelings to the dead eye it couldn’t possibly have.
He wiped is hand on his shirt and left a long stain of blood. Then he reached out and took something from the table. Looking down on it, he saw a business card.
His sight was still blurry, and the letters flowed into each other. He could only make out the middle part of the first line.
….. Ank Robin….

The vision peeled away, revealing Frank’s terrified face. Had he moved a bit to the right? How long had the vision distracted him? Probably only for a second. Still, there was something odd about it all.
“Why would you be looking at your own businiss card?” Grim asked, when the vision bled away and he found himself back in the office with Frank.
“What?” Frank asked again. It was enough to make Grimm think this guy was pretty dense.
“You know your own phone number, and the adress fro your office.” Grim mused. “At leas I assume you do.”
“Yes.” Frank moved uncomfortably in his seat.
In a sudden motion, Grim leaned forward and looked straight into Frank’s eyes. They were a pale green, flicking nerveous back and forth. Identical in colour and shape.
“You don’t have it.” He sighed.
Frank let out a choked sound.
A rush of emotions flooded through Hrim’s head. Frustration and anger swirled right behind his one good eye. With a snarl, he picked up the computer monitor from the table and threw it against a wall. There was a wrenching sound as cables tore themselves free of the screen, then a loud crash, and the monitor splintered all over the floor.
“How ****ing stupid am i!?” He roared and kicked at a bit of broken monitor. “**** it all! I got the wrong guy!”
He wanted to punch the wall, and scream some more, but he reeled himself in. Throwing a tantrum wouldn’t help.
He was about to turn back to Frank, when he heard the sharp sound of a drawer being yanked open, followed by the click of a gun’s hamme being cocked.
He turned to see Frank aiming a gun at him. It wasn’t a heavy firearm, but Frank held it like it might explode. Grim lifted one eyebrow.
“He told me you’d come.” Frank babbled. “That I should be ready to kill you. I’m not going to let you send me to jail.”
The accountant’s hands were trembling, but he still managed to aim more or less at Grim. A cold sensation gathered in Grim’s stomach and spread slowly through his entire body.
It’s no fun, getting shot.
Still, sometimes there’s just no way around it, so you learn to cope. This wasn’t the first time Grim had a gun aimed at him. He doubted it would be the last either.
So he stared down Frank. He let the ice, which he felt in his stomach, show in his one good eye. And he spoke in a coarse, defiant voice.
“Are you going to shoot me?” He asked. “Or are we going to stand around all night pretending you might?”
There was a sharp sound, like someone striking the top of the table with a hammer. Grim felt a pressure against his stomach. Then a crisp pain started spreading from his gut.
He looked down to see a bullthole, right above his navel, blood soaking into his shirt, making a right mess. He raised his eyes to glare at Frank again, then tilted his head iin a quizical motion.
Frank shot him three more times.
Sharp sparks of pain danced through his body and ha grit his teeth. He hadn’t really expected the encountant to shoot. Still, people surprise you at times.
He realised, that he had stumpled backwards and fallen onto his ass. He was sitting against a wall, bleeding everywhere.
Looking up, he saw Frank step around the desk, gun still in hand, motions carefull. He seemed a lot more relaxed now. Shooting was good for the nerves.
“Is that a glock?” Grim wheezed. There was blood in his mouth.
“I don’t really care.” Frank said distractedly. “I just got the one the store clerk suggested.”
“Shame.” Even the single word hurt like hell, when he pressed it through his teeth. “I was hoping you spend as much money on guns as you did on your suit.”
“Why do you care?” Frank asked. He wasn’t looking at Grim, rather he was heading for a file cabinet, standing in a corner of the office. “You’re dead anyways.”
“Death never really impressed me.” Grim said, and started getiing up.
The pain went from unpleasant, to downright unbearable. Still, he didn’t have time to sit around. Someone might have heard gunshots and called the police.
He got to his feet, wobbled slightly, and stared down Frank with a grin. He imagined the blood on his teeth only made the spectacle better.
“Wh.. How..” Frank sounded like he couldn’t decide on what question to ask in disbelief.
“Do you know why I don’t carry a gun Frank?” Grim asked pleasantly. The sharp taste of Iron in his mouth made him feel alive and energetic. It had been a while since someone shot him.
“What?” Frank asked in disbelief.
“I don’t carry a gun.” Grim explained. “Because people get nervous when they think you are armed. I don’t have one, because they cost money, and are impractical to travel with. And someone always brings a gun to the party anyways, so I just use that instead.”
In a flash, he surged forward, slamming a fist into Frank’s face. The strike wouldn’t really hurt the man, but it would disorient him. He staggered, and Grim siezed his gun hand and applied preassur to the wrinst.
With a squeak, Frank let go of the gun and Grim snapped it up as it fell. His elbow caught Frank in the gut, and the accountant lost his ballance and fell to his ass.
Grim pointed the gun at Franks head and paused, to think it over.
“I owe you four shots.” He said thoughtfully.
Frank uselessly covered his head with his arms, and gibbered something in a high pitched panic voice. For a moment, Grim simply stared down at the accountant, thinking it all over.
Finally, he crouched down level with the other man. Frank was still cowering and whimpering. Grim slapped him.
“Stop whining and answer my questions.” He snapped.
The accountant made a pathetic sound, then drew in a breath and looked at him.
“I shot you.” He accused. “Why aren’t you dead?”
Grim slapped him again.
“I’m asking the questions.” He growled. “Why did you shoot me?”