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starpirateee · 19 days

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i would actually die for a owen and curt both join chimera au!! ur writing is incredible and i desperately need more of it for my blorbos <3

One of these days you anons are gonna have to tell me who you are so we can talk (/nf /hj) cos you guys have some BANGER ideas

oh and, uh, please don't actually die? I'm gonna need you back here to read this thing you got me excited over 👀

[ February, 1959 ]

He was assigned the agent who almost got away. An American with a name that struck a little bit too much of a chord.

Mega.

They'd finally caught Mega. Part of him hated to think that Curt was next on their ever expanding list of potential hires, because if they failed, that would likely be the end of agent Curt Mega, and not only how the world knew him. But that thought and all of the others were drowned out rather fiercely by the vast majority of his mind that was glad that they finally had the chance to take him down a notch.

Curt wasn't conscious when Owen entered the room. It gave him enough time to survey him and the injuries he'd already sustained trying to fight them. All things considered, he seemed to have been putting up a fairly substantial resistance, but Owen quietly supposed that such confidence wouldn't last him much longer. They were supposed to be sending the man currently under the guise of deadliest man alive after him. If Curt hadn't caved before then, he'd surely be in for a world of pain.

Owen leaned against the wall in wait, folding his arms over his chest. By the end of 1957, he barely recognised the parts of himself that he couldsee, and resented that which he couldn't. These days, the inconsistencies in his body- the pale flashes of skin, the constant ringing or low throbbing in his ears, and even the way they'd had to force one of his hands to cooperate with the rest of his person, leaving him with a stiff tremor- felt more or less neutral. They were slightly outdated pieces in an otherwise well oiled and perfectly running machine, and he had that machete weilding assassin to thank for most of that.

He didn't know how to deal with that which was wrong with his body, so most of the time, he simply… Didn't. It was easier that way.

Curt's eyes opened, and he tried to get used to the world again. It had been the same scene for- days? Weeks? He didn't know how long exactly, but the more times he woke up in it, the less he had to force himself to get used to it.

There was one thing different this time. One thing that, when he saw it's tall frame casting him an all too familiar glance from across the room, startled him to no end. Of all the times… Of all the times he really needed his mind to cooperate, it did something like this and screwed him all over again.

"Oh god. Oh god… Not now…" His voice was raspy and so quiet it was almost a whisper. He was begging the universe not to make him see Owen. Of all the times for his ghost to show up uninvited and take up that aching part of his brain, now was probably the worst of all. He cursed under his breath, willing the pain of the past to just leave him alone for once. "God, Mega, pull yourself together! He's not even real!"

Owen huffed a breath of laughter. Not real? That was a new one… What was going on in Curt's head to make him believe he wasn't real? Why was that his first response?

He pushed himself up off the wall, deciding to put this notion of his to the test. He looked Curt right in the eye as he approached, making sure to keep his gaze intent and focused, and then slapped him across the face. Curt gasped, recoiled, and then his eyes went wide.

"Is that real enough for you, Curt?" Owen hummed, straightening himself up and clasping his hands behind his back. That had been two years in the making. He was surprised it wasn't harder…

"Owen..? That- that's not possible… You're-"

"Dead?" Owen scoffed. "So you seem to believe… But did you ever think to verify that for yourself?"

"I watched you fall. I-I watched you hit the ground." Curt could feel the heat spreading across his now tingling cheek. This was real, alright. Owen was real, and right in front of him, and alive. Owen- this real, not-inside-his-head Owen- had just slapped him right across the face like this wasn't the first time they were seeing each other in two years or more. All of this was actually happening, right there in the hands of the enemy.

Owen was in the hands of the enemy.

Owen… Was the enemy.

"You didn't ever take it further, did you? You just assumed I was dead right from the off, and you never took it further!" He shook his head, somewhere between offended and completely unsurprised. On one hand, did he really expect anything else? Curt wasn't the type to go back to anything, and that shouldn't have been surprising in the slightest. Still, he was a little disappointed, now having to force himself to understand that everything they'd tried to tell him was right. Curt was a coward. Curt did leave him for dead out there, and he didn't have an intention to return.

He'd managed to convince himself for a while that Curt wouldn't possibly leave him to suffer in the ways he had. Even at the time, that was no more than an attempt at self regulation, trying to pretend that one day, Curt would follow the end of a trail that led him straight back to him, and he could leave the pain behind…

Of course, that day never had come.

Curt watched his eyes cloud over with something that may have been a slight of genuine heartbreak, and felt his stomach drop. "Why are you here?"

"Thanks to you, both the American government and my own believe I'm rather dead. After that, there weren't a lot of other options." Owen answered, as bluntly as he could manage.

"You can't be saying-" But, no matter how hard he protested, it was his fault. And even he knew it. Every single step in this catastrophic failure had been his fault. He sighed. Even the fact that Owen could no longer live or work in the UK or the US because he was legally dead… That was his fault too. "Don't answer that. What do you want from me?"

"I want you to see some sense. We want nothing from you, so to speak, just enough of a chance to make our proposals?"

"You're crazy if you think I'm gonna cave just because it's you."

"I didn't expect you to have a bias just because we have a history. I know how hard a man you are to break."

Owen's eyes still burned with that same passion that they always had. Golden shimmers burst through the burnt caramel of his irises, and it felt like he knew them so well. It was distressingly familiar, and devastatingly handsome.

"But, all the same," Owen continued, voice not half as alive as his eyes. He took a well thought out step back, and started to pace. Curt heard his every step as they resonated through his ears, sending tiny shivers up his spine time and time again. "You know how I refuse to compromise."

The pacing stopped for long enough for Curt to nod, and then began again. In trying to ignore it, he dared himself to get a little confident. "Go on, then. Draw me in with the same bullshit they forced into you. I'm all fucking ears..."

"That's what you don't understand. What we're trying to create, it could change your life. This world isn't built for men like us, and you know it. Doesn't matter how hard you fight, the federal governments are never going to change their stance."

"You don't know that—"

"I do. Nothing will change if we don't force the change out of them. What you're doing is fine, as far as these things go... But, Curt... What happens when your agency finds out about your affilations?"

"They won't."

"What, ever? You're careful enough for now, and my death certainly helped with that aspect of things, but you do realise that the second they find out- in fact, the second they even start to suspect you- you're going straight to death row. That wouldn't be the case if the plan came into fruition, you understand..."

Owen passed through Curt's line of sight, and he scoffed, forcing the Brit to stop in his tracks. In a moment, his gaze was back on him, and Curt felt the intensity of it as it weighed heavy on him. This kind of unbridled confidence and sudden slights of anger had only been seen in the most calculating of adversaries, but Curt had never thought to believe he'd see it ignited in the face of someone like Owen.

"You sound mad. You know that?"

"Mad?" Owen raised an eyebrow, his head tilting as if he were trying to consider Curt's accusation. "Right... Is it mad to want what everyone else has? You're the one of us from the self proclaimed land of the free, and you're telling me you don't want a slice of that freedom?"

"No, I-"

"A straight answer, please, Curt. You beat around the bush more than a bloody politician. do you, or do you nor, want to be a free man, without the repercussions of people knowing who you are?"

There was a beat of silence. Not like Curt needed to think about it, but the last thing he wanted to do was show any ounce of desperation, especially not in front of Owen. He didn't deserve the satisfaction of knowing he was right, not in any capacity. So, he baited him for a moment, testing the possibility of saying no in his head.

But the truth was as plain as either of them could make it without words. He wanted to be free so badly. He wanted a life without repercussions, without the need to hie any one part of himself from everyone, for fear that they'd have his head if they found out.

It was mainly just the fact that Owen had called him a politician...

"Yes. Yes, I wanna be free. But not like this."

"Not like what? You have no idea of what we are capable. Nobody will care by the time we're finished. We will be on top of the world."

Curt didn't want to believe a word, but Owen was so convincing in his own way. He made this freedom sound both easy and attainable, when he knew it was anything but. When they had been fighting for so long, how was Owen and his organisation so sure that everything was going to change, just like that?

He suddenly felt confident enough to put into words what he had been thinking since Owen first started making his proposal. He looked up, registering that Owen was still there in front of him. "Do they know about you?"

Owen froze momentarily, drawing in a breath. Curt managed to convince himself that this was the edge, this was the one thing he had over him and everything he was saying, however tempting it was to listen to. Eventually, Owen sighed, but he had the pride enough to not drop his gaze through the defeat that was so evidently- and yet so briefly- written across his face.

"No. They don't."

"So, why'd you think they would accept people like us? You make out like it's easy, but you don't know! You don't know whether these plans will accomodate everything wrong with the world, because you've never bothered to try and find out!"

The risk was too great. It always had been. Owen knew for a fact that the more they knew about him, the more they could expose. All things considered, he had somehow managed to remain a closed book, even here. They only knew anything at all about him as an operative, very little about the man behind that aim, that laser focus... If presented with the opportunity, they may have known more, but they had been rather built on the idea that all secrets would be exposed in their time, and therefore, anything their agents were keeping would also leak from the woodwork.

"The way the system works," he started to explain, partly aware that Curt would buy it even less now that he'd found that edge. "We wouldn't be the ones in the public eye. All over the world, those who turn thousands in profits, and those who keep their secrets tight, will be forced into watching everything be exposed, piece by piece. The people's focus will be there; reams of government secrets and endless, publically available data, and it'll be people like us who will revel in the change."

"But how do you know that?"

"Because I've seen it. I know what they're going to do with it. Think of what they could pull from the secret service, for example. Tell me you believe the public will still have their attention on men like us, when everything that the secret service has kept hidden is suddenly on the record."

This was the kind of back and forth that happened every time Owen and Curt saw each other again. Owen would get closer and closer to genuinely moving Curt, and Curt would become less and less convinced that he was going to leave this place. For some reason, he still felt completely familiar in Owen's presence, and it became harder to ignore what he was saying.

It came to the point where he started realising that he was being offered everything he'd ever wanted. Owen's silver tongue had him convinced that whatever was going to happen in the long run was going to be an improvement on the world's current state. He got in easier. His words started having more of an effect.

Curt was a recruit under Chimera by the end of the month.

#spies are forever #saf #agent curt mega #owen carvour #void offering #star mail #nova's tags →#curt's gonna come about as willingly as owen let's be real here #and the only way he would join chimera would be through owen's persuasion #because again. maybe the love they felt for each other isnt what it was #but there's an insane kind of bond there #these men are probably the only people in the world who know the other is gay #that's sacred #that's something you don't tell anyone #so even if it's not love. there is something there #fic tag: hands of the enemy

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