Alex had set up shop in the empty computer lab. Birkhoff had shown her a few tricks to get around Division's internal system; she could search for Guardians and black boxes without getting caught. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything for her to find. Anything Percy had on his secrets wasn't kept anywhere on the terminals. He must've had them under lock and key. Alex would have to do some serious spy work to steal the information. Not then, however. As soon as she left the lab to create a plan, Amanda caught her, "Alex, great timing. Jaden was on a mission A provisional. Debrief her and file an after-action report by the end of the day."
"You want me to debrief Jaden?" Completely bewildered, Alex followed Amanda instead of taking the file she had been given and going to interrogation. She knew that if she didn't have any active missions to prepare for, she'd be utilized for whatever random work Amanda and Percy would deem fit. But debriefing a fellow recruit didn't seem to be the best thing for Alex to do. Namely, Amanda and Kelly mostly did the debriefings; changing it up seemed odd. Also, she and Jaden fought everytime they were in a room together. The past few months apart had been bliss. Being trapped in a locked room together wouldn't go well for either of them.
"Effective interview techniques should be part of any agents' skill set," Amanda reminded Alex. She wanted all the best techniques to be able to kill Semak. Those skills didn't just stop at planning and executing kill missions. The young agent needed to be able to talk to people, especially difficult people withholding information. What better way for her to practice her interview techniques than with a difficult agent in Division. She could have some information and an established relationship going in. That'd help her dig up information.
"You do realize she hates me," Alex knew she shouldn't be questioning Amanda's decision. If she followed along with what she was told, she'd be able to ask for more things relating to her revenge mission. However, she really didn't want to talk to Jaden. She had hated the way she had looked at her after Thom had died. She didn't want to face that look or any mean comments again. It was better for both Jaden and Alex to keep their distance. Who knew what would happen if they were locked in a room where one had authority over the other.
"A certain level of antagonism can be useful in this situation. Anything that puts the subject off balance works to the questioner's advantage. You're in the perfect position to help me get to the truth," Smiling warmly, Amanda directed Alex once more to the interrogation rooms. The young agent couldn't argue any longer. She really did need to practice her interview techniques in order to track down and kill Semak. Also, if she got Amanda the truth, maybe she'd give her some intel on Gogol or Zetrov. It could be a quid pro quo assignment. After crashing into deadends lately, Alex could use some help out of the maze.
Owen was on a mission as soon as the rogues left Birkhoff and the safehouse. He refused to tell Nikita and Michael anything as they flew, claiming they weren't secure. The others couldn't necessarily fight his decision; they shouldn't discuss their war while civilians were around. However, Owen's intense paranoia didn't dissuade Michael's belief that there was something off with the former Cleaner. He kept shooting Nikita looks that she wanted to argue against, yet she was slowly starting to admit that he was right- especially when Owen brought them to the terrible and dangerous neighborhood his safehouse was in, "Nice neighborhood."
"Keep your heads down. Surveillance cameras are everywhere in London," For the millionth time, Owen instructed Michael and Nikita. The two once again cast each other a look, but they followed his instructions. His paranoia had rationality to it; they needed to avoid Division at all costs. Michael was just concerned Owen's hyper-paranoia was going to become misdirected and they were going to get hurt. Nikita had doubted that. However, walking to Owen's safehouse that was falling apart and covered in weapons and scattered papers, she had to admit that Michael was right. She couldn't help but sigh as Owen said, "Make yourself at home."
"Is that what this is?" Michael muttered to Nikita. She just made a face in agreement. Although the loft she loved to stay at wasn't much of a home, it was certainly better than the hole Owen lived in. Honestly, there was no better description for his safehouse than a hole. The walls were falling apart. The floors were hazardous. The pipes were exposed and rusted. And the windows were broken and covered. The fact that the roof was intact was a miracle, but it groaned like it was going to cave in at any minute. That wasn't a safehouse; it was a deathtrap.
"This is how I narrowed it down to Camden. A Guardian has certain requirements. Easy access to public transportation, proximity to secure vaults, strong satellite signal coverage, and multiple exfil routes. That alone eliminated big chunks of the city. After that, it was just about pounding the pavement. Scouting out where he'd be. Like banks," Owen managed to ignore both Nikita's and Michael's sarcasm. He also ignored their interest in the artwork on the walls. He just spewed his information and presented his evidence. They didn't have any more time to waste. The three needed to track down the Guardian immediately.
"Why banks?" Needing a distraction from the desolate apartment and crazy seeming writings, Nikita asked. Owen was probably onto something. She and Michael should just trust his instincts and move on from the strangeness. They were there to catch the Guardian and destroy a black box. As concerning as Owen was, they shouldn't be distracted by him. Besides, it all might work out. Owen was intently focused after all. The rogues should take advantage of that. It was their first big break on the black boxes in a long time. They couldn't ruin it.
"Guardian protocol. Rent a safety deposit box, store the black box there," Owen informed the two. Nikita nodded. That made sense. The reason the team had found Owen was because he was protecting a black box from bank robbers. His decision to keep the secrets there wasn't his own; he was ordered. Percy did always like those Cold War spy tactics. Maybe the team could use them against him. They could predict his next move and assume his reactions. That'd give them at least one step ahead in their war. They desperately needed that.
While Owen caught Nikita up on his thought process, Michael studied the scattered and numerous artwork on the broken walls. He should've been listening, yet the pictures were fascinating. First of all, he didn't know Owen could draw. Second of all, the art varied wildly and covered so many different subjects that it could've filled a whole section in a museum. What was Owen even doing with all of those drawings, and why did he have them hung so prominently. The art seemed more important than the information about the Guardian. Which was odd, considering- well- everything, "And what are these?"
"Oh, these? They're my victims. Each one is a reminder of a kill while I was at Division. So I never forget why I'm doing this- doing what you inspired me to do. You don't hide from your sins. You kind of just face them," Talking directly to Nikita as he replied to Michael, Owen replied. A part of Nikita wanted to search the paintings for the reminder of Daniel. But she quickly shoved that thought aside. She instead glanced at Michael, concerned. He echoed her expression. They had had their suspicions that Owen was not in a great headspace. The artwork more than proved that. He was dwelling too much on the pain, and it was screwing with him.
"Listen, it's one thing to face your sins, and it's another to let it eat you alive. All this should just be something that helps you focus on what's important," Drifting closer to Michael, Nikita couldn't help but shake her head. Owen shouldn't be looking to her for how to live his life. She hadn't made the healthiest choices when she had gone rogue. She had let her pain almost drown her out. Ever since, she had been fighting and clawing her way to happiness. The same thing couldn't happen to Owen. He needed to learn from her mistakes, not emulate them.
"That's what I'm doing. I'm stopping Percy. That's what's important. That's why we gotta find this guy," Owen stood his ground. His pain was fueling him. He was going to track down all the Guardians, destroy all the black boxes, and help Michael and Nikita kill Percy. He needed something to focus on when they hit frustrating deadends. The sins he had to atone for were the perfect motivators. That was why all his drawings to remember his victims were turned into tattoos. He'd always carry the burden with him, even when the war was over.
Glancing at Michael, Nikita silently urged him to say something. If he wasn't going to listen to her, then maybe he'd listen to someone who just recently succumbed to his pain and almost lost everything. Michael, however, wasn't sure how to talk Owen off the ledge. He seemed too far gone. The best he could do was try to get him to think rationally. Then wasn't the time for crazy, "Okay, so your plan was to stake out all the banks in this area and what? Hoped you would just pick a Guardian out of the crowd?"
"Guardians are former Cleaners. They all have this look. It's all in the eyes. Guardians are Division's deadliest agents. We hit harder, we move quicker, we sleep less, and we survive longer. But eventually, after time, those skills start to erode. It's what happens when you take an elite killer and pull him out of the field just to babysit a black box. You're bound to make mistakes, if only out of sheer boredom. Emily was my mistake," Owen explained quickly. Spotting the Guardian should be easy if they knew what to look for. The rogues had to search for the intense screw-up, the person making careless mistakes just trying to stay on the edge.
"You fell in love with her. She wasn't a mistake, Owen," Reaching for Owen, Nikita spoke softly. She and Michael had been there when Emily died. Her death wasn't Owen's fault. He hadn't known Division would dare to snipe her in broad daylight. He had also done everything he could to protect and save her. Percy and his asinine rule of 'no loved ones' was the only one to blame. He needed to be killed to keep those unnecessary deaths from happening. Innocents shouldn't be killed just because they loved the wrong person; they shouldn't have even been the wrong person to love.
"Failing to protect her was my mistake," Owen wouldn't look at Nikita or accept her comfort. He should be punished for leading to Emily's death. She would've still been alive had he not loved her. He had put that target on her back. He had caused that sniper shot. She really would've been better off had she never met him. Nothing could change those facts. They were all his cross to bear. Comfort wouldn't absolve him. But maybe destroying black boxes would. It would set things right for others.
Except, before Owen could return the conversation back to their mission, a debilitating headache brought him to his knees. Michael and Nikita were quick to his aid, yet neither knew how to help him. They just watched in helpless confusion as he struggled to reach for a bag he had hidden in one of the cracked open walls. His movements were too slow for his liking. The screaming pain just kept getting worse and worse. He almost couldn't breathe, it was too much. Nikita tried to soothe him, but she couldn't only panic, "Owen? Hey. Owen, what's wrong?"
Shaking her off him, Owen just focused on grabbing his pills. It would all be over once he had his performance enhancers. Traveling to and from the States caused him to miss a couple doses. He had to take the pills soon or else the headache was going to get steadily worse. He didn't want to think about what would happen if he completely quit taking them. Would he get a headache so bad his head would explode. It sure felt like it; he could barely tell Nikita and Michael what was wrong, "I just get these headaches. I forgot what time it is."
"What is that?" Studying the pills Owen frantically pulled out of his bag, Michael wondered. There weren't a lot of pills left. Most of them were broken, and Owen had to scrape at the crumbs left behind just to get a hit. Although they didn't look like it, Michael desperately hoped the pills weren't narcotics. If they were, they'd explain the former Guardian's erratic behavior. But he shouldn't be using- none of them should. They needed to be as safe and healthy as possible. Drugs were only going to drag them under.
"It's a regimen. This is how we Cleaners move faster. Hit harder. Sleep less. Valproic acid steroids, dextroamphetamines. It's a metabolic dominance program. Heightens your reflexes, eliminates anxiety," As Owen desperately scraped at his scant supply of pills, Nikita stepped back. She recognized those vials. She knew those pills. She just didn't think they were still in use. Neither of the men noticed her reaction. Owen was too focused on getting his fix, and Michael was attempting to understand what he was seeing. The desolate apartment was a lot to take in. Everything about it was just another thing to worry about.
"Gives you splitting headaches," Michael huffed. He had heard Percy mention something about using performance enhancers on agents before he had left Division. He had assumed the side effects would've been too great, even for the bastard. Unfortunately, he was wrong. Percy had found his way to create super soldiers through drugs. Of course he wouldn't care about any disastrous side effects. When an agent died, he'd just replace them with another. And he'd improve the drug cocktail until his super soldiers were robots. As long as he got what he wanted, who cared about human life.
"Only if you don't take it. You can be sure that our friend has the same sort of edge. It's why we gotta be careful. We're alone in this city. It's just us and the Guardian. And he's very dangerous," Shrugging, Owen hurriedly moved the conversation off himself. His headaches weren't important. He had a handle on them as long as he took the regimen. He'd also have an edge that the rogues would need to take on the Guardian. The Guardian would do anything to protect the black box, which meant they had to do even more to stop him.
"Consider myself warned," Michael tried not to be sarcastic. The rogues should be careful as they hunted down the Guardian. They couldn't be caught on a black box hunt, and they definitely couldn't be killed. Although Owen had the right to be anxious about their actions, he didn't need to warn the others. They were well aware of the situation. At least, Michael believed so. When he cast Nikita a glance, he began to think otherwise. Her eyes hadn't left the dwindling regimen pills and the obsessive artwork covering the walls. Horror filled her gaze.