Nikita didn't know whether to kill Owen or herself. She was leaning more towards herself. Although Owen's stupidity created a massive shit storm, her stupidity ruined a partnership, a friendship, a relationship. A shit storm could be easily dealt with. But Nikita couldn't fix what she had ruined between her and Michael. The murderous gaze he shot her way as he was dragged away from his chance to kill Kasim- from his reason to keep living- expressed just that. She destroyed his opportunity for revenge. It didn't matter if it was to save his life. She destroyed him, while Kasim got to live. Michael would rather kill her too than see her again.
Birkhoff told Nikita that Michael hated him for his hand in the ruined revenge mission as well. He moved out of the safehouse and into some random hotel. But Birkhoff also assured that it would be okay soon; they wouldn't stay lone rogues for long. He had the optimism Nikita didn't. Despite wanting to be on her own for so long, she didn't want to be alone at that moment. She didn't want to be alone while Michael, the one person who had always fought for her, hated her. He hadn't let her kill herself months ago, but he was determined to kill her at the airport.
Nikita didn't want to live with that thought alone. She didn't want to keep catching glimpses of her distorted reflection in Michael's knife blade.
She had to get a hold of herself. Wallowing in self-pity wouldn't get her anywhere. Nikita had to stop morosely staring at Michael's knife, and actually do something productive with her time. Birkhoff had Shadownet- bot- whatever program did what- searching for any countermission she could rush out on. And she had her chatbox with Alex open for any information. Nikita could do anything but think about Michael as she waited. Despite the very late hour, she decided to go swimming. Not only was it great exercise and stress relief, she could also hide underneath the water and pray she never came back out.
Finding a rec center with a pool she could easily break into and not be caught using outside of the hours of operation was easy. Nikita didn't have to worry about security or anything like that as she attempted not to think. All she had to focus on was swimming. The rhythm of it, focusing on steadily breathing in and out as her head breached the surface, kept her from spiraling further into dark thoughts. She could actually relax. At least, while she swam she could.
When Nikita finally got out of the pool and made her way to the locker room, her muscles instantly tensed. Something was wrong. Someone was in the rec center with her. She could hear it in the way the sounds reverberated around the room. Someone was there, and they were coming for her. Nikita didn't wait to see who the person was. She grabbed her towel, and as soon as she could, she attacked. Whipping the towel out, she struck the stranger in the eye. Except, it wasn't a stranger coming to hurt her; it was only Owen, "Owen? What the fuck?"
"When are you not ready to kill me?" Holding his injured eye, Owen muttered. He had tried to catch Nikita at the loft Birkhoff said she would be at, but she left the building as soon as he arrived. In hindsight, Owen should've stopped her on the street and approached her then. Yet, they needed to be alone. The information he wanted to share with her was too sensitive to discuss on the street. He had to wait until he could get her alone. The locker room of the abandoned rec center she broke into was a good enough place. If only Nikita didn't try to kill him on sight.
"What do you want? Can't you go bother Michael or Birkhoff instead?" Drying her hair with her weaponized towel, Nikita huffed. She didn't want to be around Owen any longer than she had to. She knew she shouldn't remain upset about what he did to Daniel; he was only following orders, like she had done a million times before. But she still couldn't bring herself to let go of her anger. She couldn't stop hating herself for all the things she had let happen.
"They won't understand what I did. But you're like me. You'll get it," If Owen caught how tightly Nikita wound the towel back up in her fists, he didn't let on. He got right down to business, dropping the duffel bag he had brought with him off his shoulder. He had thought about involving Michael and Birkhoff into his scheme as well. Yet, Owen knew that out of all the rogues, Nikita was the most willing to cross lines. She wasn't afraid to hold back or get down and dirty. That was what they needed to take on Division. They had to do the worst they could.
Sighing, Nikita cinched her towel tightly around her waist. She would've preferred to change out of her wet swimsuit, wash the chlorine out of her hair, and collapse in her warm bed. However, with Owen blocking her way, she was forced to listen to him. She didn't want to. The comparison he made between them didn't sit right with her. Except, she couldn't really argue against him. Deep down, she knew he was right. She and Owen were different than Michael and Birkhoff; they were darker. It was better to accept that and move on than fight against what she believed to be true, "What'd you do?"
"The thumbdrive I was supposed to upload into the box doesn't have the same decryption. So, I leaked information," Owen didn't have time to finish his explanation. Rapidly, Nikita's towel whipped him in the other eye, and she screamed at him. How could he have been so stupid. Releasing Division secrets only led to disaster. Someone was going to get hurt, or worse. Despite the harsh assault he faced, Owen stubbornly stuck to what he had done. He had a very good reason for it, after all, "It could lead us to more black boxes."
"God dammit. Now we gotta do damage control," Continuing to curse Owen out, Nikita stomped to the other side of the locker room. She'd just have to quickly rinse off and throw her clothes back on. Owen's rashness didn't afford them the luxury of time. Alright, releasing secrets was a sound idea to make Division panic and want to beef up the black box encryption. It could eventually lead the rogues to more black boxes. But there was a reason Division operations were kept secret. There was a reason the black boxes were Percy's leverage to stay alive. That information was incredibly dangerous. No one could handle that kind of truth.
"Division's scrambling. What are they gonna do?" Owen couldn't understand Nikita's point. Granted, he hadn't had that lengthy conversation with Michael. He wasn't as aware of the stakes as the other rogues. All he knew was that any attack on a black box was an attack on Percy. There could be no downside to that. The chaos occurring in the news shouldn't have been their concern. The rogues just had to burn Division down bit by bit.
"Blame it on someone else, and clean it up," Months ago, Nikita probably would've agreed with Owen. So what if Division's secrets got released; the sooner the black ops group got shut down, the better. Yet, it wasn't just the rogues versus the secret governmental organization. There were so many innocents that could be hurt by their war- like Jill Moretti and Emily. The rogues couldn't allow that to continue. They had to ensure no one else wound up like them.
Owen didn't make any more arguments as he and Nikita traveled back to her loft. He simply explained the information he had leaked and how that could lead them to other black boxes. Nikita understood that if Percy scrambled to secure his black boxes, the rogues could pick up on the trail. She didn't need to spend time thinking about that. Instead, she focused on how Division might sweep the leak under the rug. She couldn't come up with a possible cover story on her own, so she reached out to Alex for help, "Hey. I need a favor. If Division has you doing anything weird for a 'training exercise', let me know."
As soon as the message was sent, Owen was all over Nikita, asking her numerous questions about her mole inside Division. He had overheard her talking about it with Michael and Birkhoff, and was curious if the mole could help them then. Nikita refused to involve Alex further. The black box situation was hers and Owen's mess to clean up. Besides, Nikita didn't know how above and beyond Alex would go for her. Sticking to the basics was the best way to keep the trust they had. Alex always pulled through with that, after all, "They have us compiling fake intel on a Ryan Fletcher. Something about evidence gathering. Is this guy real?"
"Very real, and very much in danger. Thanks for the info," Nikita quickly replied to Alex before searching the name she had given her. The rogue owed her mole a full explanation later. But she didn't have the time at the moment. Chances were, the grunt work the recruits were being forced to do related to the current situation. They were probably gathering intel on someone Division could blame for the leaked mission. If that information came out, that someone was a dead person. Nikita and Owen had to get to them first and save them, "Ryan Fletcher. In the import/export business based in Chile."
"CIA?" Recognizing the cover, Owen gasped. Wasn't Division supposed to be a division of the CIA. Weren't the agents in that hellhole supposed to do the missions the agency couldn't- at least, until Percy went dirty and started taking mission-for-hire jobs. How could the black ops group frame a company man. Nikita understood the decision perfectly, however. The information Owen leaked revealed Division's hand in rigging a South American election. Who had a worse history of that than the CIA. It was probably easy for Percy to pick an agent to blame.
"See what I mean," Nikita tried not to roll her eyes. She had to stop being annoyed with Owen and just focus on saving Ryan from a fate he possibly didn't even know about. Nikita contemplated just grabbing Ryan first, and explaining everything later. Except, he was in the CIA. It'd be easier if she just told him what was occurring. Her cryptic phone call could be enough to help him, "Hello, Ryan Fletcher. I need you to listen. A whole shit load of hell is about to rain down on you. But I can help… Ryan?"
Shouting rang over the line before Ryan hung up on her. The noises didn't belong to Division, though; Nikita would've recognized those immediately. Ryan was facing a whole other world of danger. Owen and Nikita didn't hesitate before gearing up and jetting out. They did send Birkhoff a hasty message about borrowing his jet, yet soon they were outside the CIA field office in Chile, thinking about a way to handle the situation. Owen wanted to burst right in, and shoot his way to any answers. Nikita, however, was far more rational, "Hold on. We can't just rush in and start shooting. We have to plan first."
"Okay. So what's your plan?" Owen demanded to know. The two didn't have all the time in the world to figure out what had happened to Ryan. If they didn't bring him to a safehouse and sort out the mess the leaked intel created, then Division would find him and kill him. Alright fine, Owen had created the mess. But he was looking for a way to fix it. His actions against Division had already led to one death. He couldn't allow any more.
"We go in there and… alright fine," Honestly, Nikita didn't know how to approach a situation without being a threat. Usually, Michael created the smarter plans. But she couldn't rely on him for that mission. She shouldn't bother him. She and Owen had to figure out what to do on their own, and without relying on their brash tactics. The best the two could come up with was Nikita entering the field office and black badging her way into receiving information. And if that didn't work, then Owen would bust heads and they'd hack into a computer.
A strange mix of both schemes got the two rogues the intel they needed. Nikita was able to discover that Ryan was an analyst who liked to stick his nose where it didn't belong. She guessed that that was part of the reason Ryan was being framed by Division. He probably picked up Division chatter, got too close to the truth, and Percy wanted him silenced. It was a good thing the rogues were there. All his digging wouldn't have been for nothing.
Although Nikita had gathered that information with her false CIA badge, Owen had to help her with the rest of the intel. When the CIA agent grew suspicious of her, Owen burst in and handled it. The two were then free to use the agency's computer. It didn't take them long to discover that a band of political rebels had taken Ryan. They had heard the lie that he was responsible for the rigged election, so they decided to make him pay. Hastily, Nikita found the rebels' location and pulled Owen along with her, "Got 'em. Come on. But, this time, we're staying quiet. We're not saving Ryan from Division only for him to be killed by these guys."
"I can be quiet," As they rushed back to their stolen car, Owen shouted. Nikita shot him a look, yet she left it at that. They had to plan their assault on the rebel camp. Staying quiet was their best play. As long as the rebels didn't know what was truly occurring, Ryan could stay alive. That worked well for the two rogues as they began their approach. They took out several guards without raising an alarm. But then, Owen accidentally caused a rebel to fire off several loud rounds, and all hell broke loose.
Ryan heard chaos erupting all around him. He couldn't see anything with the damn plastic bag the rebels had placed over his face to suffocate him- he also couldn't breathe. But he was conscious enough to know that the rebels were getting their asses kicked. It wasn't the CIA that came to his rescue, however. The way the people fought the rebels was far too unorganized, far too loud, and far too efficient. The struggle hardly lasted two minutes. Soon, the rebels were silent. All that was left were Ryan and his rescuers.
They didn't waste any time breaking him from his bonds. The bag was ripped off Ryan's head, and at long last air filled his lungs. He tried not to gasp immediately; he had to control his breathing. Yet he choked on air nonetheless, too consumed with that to notice his limbs being freed from the chair. A dirty, bronze hand reached out, offering to help the poor man.
That was when Ryan finally noticed who had saved him. It wasn't a full team of agents or mercenaries. Only a burly man and a lithe woman stood in front of him. Neither appeared to have been in a fight at all- they were completely unscathed.
Instantly, Ryan knew the two agents were a part of the 'ghost unit' he had been hunting. No one else in the CIA believed it to be true, yet Ryan knew a secret black ops organization of the government was operating top-secret missions. The agents were good, fast, completely non-existent, and standing right in front of him. The intel he had traced to the 'ghost unit' was very real. And his fate was very much in their hands, "Who are you people?"
"I'm Nikita. You hung up on me."