Owen was on his own again. He didn't want to trouble others with his problems, he was not ready to open up yet. His dependence on the regimen had to end before he settled down. The thought of hurting someone close to him again was too much for him to bear.
It was time to get on the move. The other guardians had to be found and the boxes they guarded destroyed. With no leads, he decided he was going to work his way through Europe into Russia.
Owen spent a few weeks in the capitals, searching for the signs of a guardian, all the while fighting off the regimen's hold over him. He was reducing the dosage whenever he had built up the courage to face the excruciating pain, both mental and physical.
The regimen dulled his guilt, brought him relief from the torment of his sins. Part of him was thankful for that but he was stronger then that, he knew he had to face what he had done in its entirety, no finding an easy way out of it.
Nights were the hardest, the stillness allowed for his thoughts to pound on him. When he wasn't suffering from a terrible nightmare, he was curled up, clenching his sheets, alone and suffering. Emily had opened him to love. She had shown him the splendor of having someone to cherish, someone to hold in his heart. Owen fought his tears, too many times had he fallen asleep with swollen eyes.
Owen woke up early as always. The previous night's terrors had left him feeling empty and he figured some food would help, couldn't hurt at least. Owen took great pride in his culinary finesse. It was one of the few skills that he had that didn't belong to a killer.
Once finished with his meal, he headed back on the road. In the last couple of months he had made his way through France, Germany, Poland, and Belarus with no trace of a guardian. In a few days he would be in Moscow, the next stop on his search.
Owen knew that being in Russia was risky. This was Gogol's backyard and they had never gotten along with Division. They were sure to be searching for the black boxes, nothing beat holding leverage over the U.S government and there was no leverage like a black box.
On one of his many walks around the city investigating possible banks, Owen noticed some men in a black van, surveying the area. Their eyes were different, they were cold and confident, they were the eyes of an agent. Owen knew he had to avoid them, no point in alerting Gogol to his presence. What he didn't know was that they had been following him for weeks. He pulled up his collar and turned to walk in the other direction when he saw another van.
Owen spotted an alley and headed for it, walking at a brisk pace. The men in the vans got out and started their pursuit. The alley branched out into others but Owen had no idea where they led. Ducking into an alley, he hid behind some junk and waited for the agents to come by.
Two of the agents were making their way towards him. He readied himself for the fight that was about to occur. The two men passed by, not noticing Owen's presence. Owen crept up behind the nearest agent, kicked out his legs and snapped his neck. Before the other agent could turn around, Owen charged him, tackling him to the ground, wrapped his arm around the man's neck, stopped the blood flow, and it was over. The two agents had no time to react to Owen's sudden attack.
Owen took one of the agent's earpieces and listened in. Gogol had surrounded the alleyway exits, they were prepared for this, there was no escape for him.
"Why are you after me?" Owen was going to try getting out of this alive.
"We know you are Division and we were wondering if we could make a deal. You give us information and we'll minimize the torture."
Owen laughed to himself, great offer. "Sorry but I am ex-Division and there is something I need to take of before I can give myself up."
"We want information on the black boxes, you must know something even if you have defected"
"Oh I know a bit, quite a bit actually. How 'bout we make a deal. I help you find them and you become my sponsor." If this played out, things were gonna be looking up.
"What makes you think you are worth our money?"
"Let's just say that I'm fairly knowledgable when it comes to the black boxes."
Owen was taken to Gogol's headquarters so Ari could determine if he was worth keeping around.
"First off, who are you and why are you worth my time?
"Owen and I was a guardian, a Division agent set with the task of protecting one of Percy's black boxes."
"So Mr. Elliot, what made you defect and what can you offer us?"
"Percy killed the woman I loved so I'm out for revenge. As for what I can give you, I understand the mind of a guardian, their thought process, their behavior, everything. My partner Nikita and I have already taken out another guardian."
"You know Nikita?" Ari was beginning to get intrigued.
"Yeah, you know her?" Nikita's fame still surprised Owen.
"Let's just say we like to get into each other's hair," a smirk appearing on his face.
"Well I see no reason as to why not we can't help each other, just know that you touch Nikita and you are dead," Owen's eyes were cold and stern. Ari knew it was a promise. "Also, I have a small problem. I need a bit of help with a drug problem of mine."
The coming weeks went by quickly. Owen had given Gogol a sample of the regimen so they could analyze it and look for a way off of it. He also described the basics of what a guardian would be doing and how they would go about their business so they would know what to look for.
It had been a long day, Owen had spent the day training with the Gogol agents so when it came time to take on a guardian, they would be able to work together efficiently. Owen got to his room late at night, exhausted from the strain. He was going through another period of avoiding the regimen, saving the pills for when he needed them. His face twisted in agony, his mind now punishing him. Faces stared at him with sorrowful eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." Owen wished he could trade his life for theirs, he wished he had never been a cleaner. He started lashing out, destroying whatever he could get his hands on. With his furniture gone he then proceeded to beat the wall until his fists were bloody and torn. Collapsing in a heap on the floor, tears cleansing his mangled hands, he drifted from consciousness.
Owen was falling into himself more and more as each day passed. He wanted someone, needed them, but how could he ever burden someone with his twisted self, who could support him? Isolation filled his thoughts until he remembered the Percy. Percy was his purpose. he would kill Percy. He would hurt Percy. Percy would pay. Percy! Percy! Percy!
Owen then saw a butterfly drift by the window, he stared at it and admired its beauty. He remembered something, something he had...a second life. His trance was broken, he realized he was losing himself, obsession taking hold. He could make up for his sins, make amends for his wrongs. He'd reached the extent of which he could go without the regimen, any further and real damage would be done. He took the regimen and his head was clear and his body felt strong but Owen knew he was weak. After the countless attempts to give up the regimen who still could not control the side effects.
Upset with himself he decided to pass the time watching the news. A surprising event had just occurred. A man had gone into some sort of trance and tried to murder a senator. Owen recognized the behavior, it was the work of a certain doctor, a certain doctor whom Owen had saved, a certain doctor who had created the regimen.
Owen awoke shivering, his entire body cold and damp. He'd spent months in this hell hole: minimal light, minimal food, minimal hope. What luck. Put in all that work to find and destroy the black boxes and then he gets locked up, everything seemed to be against him. He did have something new to think about now though. Who the hell was he. There were no memories of his life before Division. He always figured it was an effect of the regimen but it had been more then half a year since he had last been on the regimen. 'How much could they screw up my life, the take my memories and turn me into a heartless killer.' Owen was pissed off more then ever, 'why would they take my memories?'
Day after day was the same darkness until a visitor came to see him, a fellow cleaner named Anne.
